


Hocus Pocus

by dyingpoet



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, M/M, Slow Burn, halloween au yall, javid - Freeform, newsbians, sprace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-03-22 16:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13768497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet
Summary: Race's Halloween party experience does not go as planned





	1. Midterms Suck

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys like this! I'll be trying to post at least a chapter a week, maybe less just because I'm trying to make these chapters longer and more comprehensive than I usually do :)

Midterms had really kicked Race’s ass this time around.

He hadn’t even done terrible on the majority of them, but he’d traded a small portion of his soul in order to make that happen. He wasn’t sure the last time he’d gotten over six hours of sleep, including naps, and had been living off of coffee and leftovers from Davey’s work for the last few weeks. It wouldn’t have been that bad if Davey didn’t work at a greek place where nearly every dish included a part of an animal that was definitely not meant to be consumed by human beings.

And, to add to the general stress and sleeplessness that had accumulated in other classes, his Intro to Astrophysics teacher had been putting their midterm off until he finished grading papers they’d turned in  _ ages _ ago. So, the guy decided that his eight am class should take theirs on Halloween, in what Race and the rest of the class considered a thinly veiled attempt to keep them from enjoying any aspect of the holiday.

They hadn’t realized how right they were until they opened the test and had a moment of collective horror at the sheer length of the goddamn thing. 

But now he was back. It was ten. He figured that there was a solid fifty percent chance he actually failed the one class that directly pertained to his major, and the morning could have been going a hell of a lot better.

And everyone could laugh at him all they wanted but it was a full moon tonight and there was a storm coming in, so bad luck was literally in the fucking air. Usually he would’ve tried to perk up and do something but all of his energy had been sapped and he just wanted to buy a bag of shitty candy and pass out.

He had half of that covered, as he could feel himself shutting down and sinking into his mattress. Davey had gotten this diffuser thing that made their whole room smell like peppermint, which supposedly helped with headaches, and it was really taking some of the tension out of him for the first time in weeks.

_ Slam! _

Race cursed into his pillow softly before putting it over his head to block out Jack. He also really hated that he knew it was Jack without having to look because nobody else would barge in like that. Not even Davey, and they were roommates for god’s sake.

“R-acer!” Jack sang, quickly shushed by Davey, who held a solid 95% of their collective consideration and manners as a couple. Times like these really made him wish they’d never gotten together because a world where Jack Kelly wasn’t dating his roommate he’d be able to get some fucking rest.

He naively tried to bury his head deeper into his pillow and block out Jack’s voice, which had never worked in the past, but he took a shot. 

“Get up Higgins, it’s Halloween!”

“Jack, he just took a midterm, let him sleep for a little.”

“There’s no sleep on Halloween, Davey, it’s an American tradition.”

“Halloween isn’t just for Americans Jack.”

“Americans are the only ones that matter-”

Race let out a pretty impressive groan and whipped his pillow in the general direction in Jack’s voice. There was pretty much no way he’d be getting any more sleep if Jack was in here though, and he turned onto his back to glare at them both-pretty much just Jack-instead of trying.

“Please shut the fuck up.”

Davey started playing with the sleeve of his hoodie and now Race felt bad because Davey looked like  _ he  _ felt bad because his boyfriend was a child. “Sorry Race.”

“It’s not you Davey,” he sighed halfheartedly, “It’s the one you’ve chosen to love.” The last bit made Davey smile, even got half of one out of Race, before he turned back to Jack and rolled his eyes.

He honestly had no idea how those two had gotten together in the first place with their totally opposite personalities, because Jack was smirking with no trace of Davey’s apologeticness and pulling his boyfriend in for a pretty one-sided hug at the moment. “Aw, you love me.”

“We’ve been dating for almost two years Jack, I say I love you everyday.”

“But it means more to me when Race says it,” Jack said. 

Race shot him a pointed look and tried to grab his blanket from the end of the bed to try and get some semblance of comfort. “That’s creepy as fuck Jack.”

Jack ignored him and lunged for the blanket, missed pretty impressively, and landed next to Race on the bed. Said occupant of the bed smacked at Jack’s hand when he made to ruffle his hair, only egging Jack on.

“Whatever Race, you love me,  _ and _ you can’t sleep forever.”

“I’ve actually only been sleeping for like half an hour-”

“It’s Halloween!” Jack interjected quickly, “You love Halloween!”

“Not anymore, it’s been ruined,” Race said with the hint of a whine in his voice as Jack threw his blanket off the bed, “Let me sleep.”

He heard Davey sigh from the other side of the room. The sound of a bed creaking signalled that he’d wasn’t exactly going to be of help right now. He couldn’t really blame him, it was usually a matter of picking your battles with Jack anyway.

With that in mind, Race buried his head in his pillow and let out a long whine when Jack started shaking his shoulder. As much as he loved Jack, which was significantly less than usual right now, he was in a really crappy mood and in no was equipped to deal with his hyperactive bullshit.

And he knew Jack could tell he felt like shit, and in some weird way he was trying to make Race feel better by annoying the shit out of him. As usual though, nobody could really understand the method to Jack’s madness, and Race groaned louder.

So, when Jack stopped shaking him and let out a sigh, Race somehow managed to feel sort of bad. Jack had this odd quality where whenever he was disappointed he turned into this kicked-puppy version of himself. Secretly, Race thought that’s why Davey had agreed to go out with him in the first place, it was damn hard to say no to Jack when he was like that.

“C’mon Race, you’re not gonna feel any better sitting in here all day.”

Race turned to look at Jack’s stupid ASPCA puppy commercial look and sat up begrudgingly, at which Jack immediately perked up and shoved at his shoulder with a goofy smile on his face. “See, you look better already!”

Davey let out a laugh from his bed and sat up to face Race. At least he had the decency to look sympathetic.  “Yeah Race, you might as well enjoy yourself now, your midterm grade isn’t in yet, can’t be disappointed about nothing.”

Race knew Davey had a point but he rolled his eyes anyway, might as well keep the stubborn streak going. “Yeah, I guess.”

“So,” Davey started, and Race really didn’t like the way he and Jack shared some sort of look before he continued, “We had an idea for something we could do later-”

“And you have to listen to the full explanation before you say no,” Jack cut in.

Davey nodded, “So Mush and Blink were thinking of having some people over later for a Halloween party.”

He rushed out the next part because he could tell that Race was having absolutely  _ no part _ in this shit right now. “And it’ll be really fun and lowkey and we could dress up and get out minds off of stuff and Race,  _ c’mon _ .”

Race had put his head in his hands halfway through the explanation and was humming pretty loudly to try and cut Davey off. He liked parties enough but both of them knew goddamn well that he had been boycotting Mush an Blink’s parties for about a year now.

“The last time really wasn’t that bad,” Jack said. 

Race snapped his head and raised his eyebrows. “Really? Not that bad? That’s really how you wanna describe that? ”

For once Jack actually shut up and looked over at Davey for support. He got none, as expected.

* * *

 

The first and last time Race had been to one of Mush and Blink’s famous parties was actually his first proper college party. Mush and Blink were juniors then, and Jack went to high school with them. So, despite being freshman, they got invited to some cool upperclassmen stuff. 

One such event just so happened to be a house party the second week of school. It’s pretty important to add that Race didn’t even want to go to the party in the first place, that stuff could get out of control and he’d known Mush and Blink for two weeks but could already tell they had no impulse control.

Regardless, Jack convinced him to go with him and Davey. Davey had a class so they were going to show up late and leave within a couple of hours anyway, a time period in which one might think that very little physical or social damage could be done within those few hours. 

They would be wrong.

After about an hour everyone was pretty wasted, including Jack, and for the most part excluding Race and Davey. Davey couldn’t drink because he was on medication and Race had an 8am class the next day and didn’t really feel like getting kicked out of college the second week for drinking underage.

But in hindsight he sort of wished he’d gotten drunk. It probably would have helped with the pain when a senior  _ nailed  _ him for ‘fucking with his girl’ even though he’d been with Davey the whole time. The guy was drunk off his ass and pretty much everyone denied knowing who he was the day after.

But all he remembered clearly was a loud crack and some drunken yelling before the guy was pulled off him, he was told by Mush, but there was a good chance the guy was just trying to save face.

Everything after that point though was sort of a blur.

There was a memory of Davey panicking and Jack drunk panicking -significantly more annoying than sober panicking- and it taking them a solid half hour to find someone sober enough to tell if his nose was actually broken. It was, and everything within a five foot radius of him was covered in blood, he was told it all still was. I guess one of the guys who lived there asked Jack if they could pay for it and Jack cursed them out pretty good, Race would’ve probably broken their nose and asked how it felt, but Jack’s method was fine too.

Getting his nose set at the ER was probably the highlight, right after the whistles from upperclassman who’d been at the party the next day. There was even a brief period where everyone called him ‘Rocky’ but after Race snapped at a few people that died out.

Needless to say, it hadn’t been an experience he was fond of repeating, and he’d created a pretty solid association between Mush and Blink’s house and pain, so yeah, there was no way he was going to go.

* * *

 

“It could have been worse?” Davey offered weakly. Jack nodded emphatically and Race just kept shaking his head.

“Nope, couldn’t have been any worse actually. If I’d died it probably would have been better, I wouldn’t have had to deal with the embarrassment of having a fucking cast on my face for weeks.”

When he made another attempt to grab his blanket Jack pulled it back. “C’mon Racer, it’s just Mush and Blink now, the rowdy guys were all their roommates friends.”

“Yeah and they said it’s supposed to be sort of small, their neighbors complain about the noise so they can’t let it get out of hand and stuff.”

Davey shot him his own wounded animal look, which was significantly less effective than Jack’s, being roommates with someone for two years made you sort of immune. 

Their points about it being small and lowkey were total bullshit, he knew that, but the more he thought about sitting alone in his room eating candy and watching shitty movies alone, the more pathetic it sounded.

But there really had to be another option here.

“Why don’t we go out with Romeo and Sniper or something? Upperclassmen suck anyway.”

Davey shrugged but Jack let out a pretty offended, and oddly animalistic, sound of protest before staring at Race with something akin to offense.

“Race, we’re in college,” Jack started, “we can’t waste this, this  _ life experience _ to do some bullshit high school stuff. We have to party, it’s our god given right.”

Even Davey rolled his eyes at that one. Somewhere in that dramatic, hyperbolic expression there was a point, neither Race nor Davey knew what it was exactly, but it was there.

Not bothering to uncover it, Race just stared at Jack expressionlessly for about ten seconds before moving to lay back down.

“ _ Race.”  _

With a pillow over his head, Jack’s voice was blissfully muffled. Davey’s voice started saying something he couldn’t decipher and by some act of god he could actually feel sleep start to take over again for a few seconds.

It was short-lived of course. Jack ripped the pillow away from him after a few seconds and had a smirk plastered on his face that Race had grown to associate with dangerous and/or illegal acts.

Now though, Jack had that look mixed with general excitement and it was freaking Race the hell out. “What?”

“I know something that’ll make you go,” Jack sang. 

Race looked at Davey for some hint at what was going on but got an equally confused look in return. “No you don’t.”

Jack shrugged and let himself bathe in their rapt attention for a few seconds before finally going on. Drama queen. “I just know for a fact that some guys  _ and  _ girls are going that you’ve expressed interest in s’all.”

A bit anticlimactic, he’d really expected that to be some sort of bombshell, but it peaked his interest a bit. Race tended to fall deeply in love with people he saw in passing and never spoke a word to, and almost everyone who he actually knew he didn’t like in that way or found them unappealing. It was a terrible romantic strategy but he rode with it, oh so painfully rode with it, but rode with it just the same.

“Sure you do Jack,” Race said. The edge of sarcasm in his voice somehow encouraged Jack, the bastard knew he had Race on a line and was taking his damn time reeling him in.

“I have it on good authority that that girl Katherine is going, y’know the one in Davey’s journalism class who you’ve been going on about for ages-”

“I know who she is Jack,” Race snapped, admittedly blushing and really fucking hating himself for it. He did know her though, she was ridiculously smart, according to Davey, and had cursed this guy Morris out for trying to talk dirty to her, she slapped him too. Fantastic girl. And he’d never seen her with another guy so there was a solid chance she was single.

But Jack had a habit of compulsively lying to most people. “What’s ‘good authority’?”

Jack knew he had him now and was failing miserably in holding his weird Al Capone in  _ The Godfather _ sort of confidence. “Davey heard her talking about it in class yesterday.”

Race looked at Davey, now that was a kid who couldn’t lie to save his life, and everyone in the room knew it. “Well?”

“She mentioned it yeah,” Davey said with a shrug, “Didn’t think it was that important though.”

Jack hummed happily. “You underestimate how far Race’ll go for a crush my friend.”

“Boyfriend.”

“Whatever.”

They started to bicker back and forth about who knew Race best, which would have normally been funny and probably boosted his ego a bit, but if Katherine was going he might break his boycott.

Jack and Davey cut off abruptly when Race spoke up. 

“I’ll consider it.”

A whoop and a softer ‘good’ came from Jack and Davey respectively. Race never considered anything that he didn’t end up doing, why he didn’t just say ‘yes ‘ or ‘no’ was beyond even him, but he’d made up his mind. 

And because he hadn’t planned on going he didn’t have a costume picked out or anything. Naturally, he voiced that concern, and naturally, Jack was dragging him and Davey to his own dorm, vehemently ignoring Race’s protests and Davey’s inability to keep up with Jack’s stride

* * *

 

“You’re putting way too much effort into this.”

“You’re not putting  _ enough _ effort into this.”

Race rolled his eyes and sat on Jack’s bed while he was rifling through his closet. Since Jack was a fine arts major and Crutchie was a theater major, they both had an interesting collection of clothes in their dorm that were elaborate enough to serve as costumes on normal people.

If Crutchie was here he’d probably have some sort of barrier between him and Jack but he’d been going to get food when they arrived, and Davey opted to go with him since he already had a costume.

In the half hour since him and Jack had started looking for a costume they’d hit a pretty wide range: ghost (quickly shot down by Jack), pirate, stripper ( _ very  _ quickly shot down by Race), that guy Stefan from  _ Saturday Night Live _ , Dwight from  _ The Office _ , and ironically enough, horse jockey.

They were running out of ideas and Race’s newfound desire to even go to the party was dwindling.

“This is stupid, we aren’t going to find anything, let’s just tie a sheet around my neck like a cape or something, it’ll work.”

A pretty impressive snort shot that down and Race flopped down on the bed. Jack and his styles fell at opposite ends of a spectrum. Jack liked to dress like he was going to a slam poetry session in the 1980’s on a daily basis, and Race tended to dress like a normal human being in 2018.

“We’ll find something,” Jack said. The not of uncertainty in his voice spoke volumes but Race shut up anyway, again, picking your battles. There was a piece of candy on Jack’s nightstand, a Kit-Kat, and he opened it halfheartedly. He bit into it and saw Jack physically cringe before slowly turning around. 

“ _ Please _ tell me you didn’t just bite into that like that.”

“Fight me.”

Jack groaned and Race smiled through the Kit-Kat, getting another groan and swallowed. “The breaking of the Kit-Kat before biting is  _ optional  _ Jack.”

Jack turned back to his closet. “You’re satan.”

“And you’re such an angel-”

“Shut up! I might have something!” Jack basically shouted despite being six feet away. Race couldn’t see what he had, which scared him, but Jack looked awfully excited, which scared him even more. “What is it?”

“Picture this,” he said, hands holding whatever he’d come up with behind his back, “The Winter Olympics have just ended-”

“They ended in February.”

“-And you’re feeling pretty patriotic right? Getting ready for,  _ the Summer Olympics _ maybe?” In an admittedly weak attempt to mimic the medal ceremony, Jack held up a black jacket with the Olympic rings logo on it, a matching pair of pants, and a paper mache looking ‘gold medal’. And for once Race didn’t feel immediately repulsed or offended one of Jack’s costume ideas, he actually did good.

“That’s not bad, where’d you get it?”

He caught the clothes as Jack tossed them at him, and watched with amusement as Jack very carefully placed the medal on the bed beside him.

“I got the jacket and the pants in high school and convinced my home ec teacher to sew on the Olympic stuff for me because I had to present this piece I was doing that focused on athletes,” he said, “And the medal was given to me by my art AP Studio Art teacher at the end of the year.”

Slapping Race’s hand away when he started reaching for it he said, “It hold a lot of  _ sentimental value  _ to me, I loved my art teacher, you  _ cannot  _ damage it.”

Seriousness was a rare look on Jack, and Race nodded solemnly. “Okay, I’ll be careful then.”

“You better be,” Jack quipped. The smile returned to his face a few seconds later and he laid down on the bed next to Race. “The party will be fun, I swear.”

He started playing on his phone and Race stretched out his arms a bit. The atmosphere of this dorm room right now was what he would prefer to spend his his Halloween in if he was being honest. But, all things considered, he’d rather be at a party when his midterm got in, where he could get stupidly drunk, than sitting alone in his dorm.

“I hope so.”


	2. That's Not Madonna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race and co. help set up for the party. Jack has an... interesting costume

Mush and Blink’s place hadn’t changed much in the last year or so.

The carpet was still the same faded vomit yellow, from either poor decorating taste or as a result of college kids drinking more than they could handle. He really couldn’t emphasize how much he hoped for the former, but the sheer amount of half empty liquor bottles around the place was making him worry that he might be wrong.

Apparently they’d replaced the bloody furniture. When he looked at their new couch he could have sworn he saw Blink snicker but his glare shut him down pretty damn fast.

And he had to admit, the place looked better in daylight. Less like the setting of his own personal nightmare and more like an actual house with quiet, nonviolent people living in it.

He, Jack and Davey had showed up at around three because they’d volunteered to help set up. Race had been under the impression that ‘setting up’ was mostly just making sure that they had enough alcohol scattered around the place and the ER on speedial, yeah he was still bitter as hell, but apparently there was an actual level of prep involved. They were being given jobs, it was a lot more formal than he would have expected

“So Race,” Mush started, “Can you put up this spider web stuff up? Just wherever it’ll stick.” 

Race nodded curtly and grabbed the bag from Mush, who smiled warmly in return. The guy wasn’t really that bad, Blink either, which he really hated to admit. He was warming up to them a little bit, they were like less energetic versions of Jack, which was really to say bearable versions of Jack. 

And they’d started with the decorations already, sort of cheesy Halloween stuff but it looked cool. Blink had actually carved a few pumpkins really well, which led to the discovery that he was minoring in Fine Arts with an emphasis on sculpture, he and Jack even had a class together.

They actually took a certain level of pride in how the place looked too, so Race found himself taking his time and making sure he was doing well when he started setting up himself.

He’d started with putting webs up in the living room and slowly worked his way over to the kitchen, doing what he thought was a damn good job along the way. With the orange faerie lights they’d set up and some music playing, it would actually look awesome once they were finished and everyone showed up.

Entering the kitchen with a handful of webs, he found Jack, who had been assigned to make the critically acclaimed ‘shit-face punch’ as their hosts so lovingly called it. It was terrifying and Race could smell it from across the room.

“Hey Racer! Having fun yet?” Jack asked, pouring vodka into the punchbowl. He looked up atrather shocked Race, who was staring intently at the now half bottle of vodka that was mixed with what he thought was redbull? It was like alcohol poisoning in a bowl, one glass of that stuff could get him absolutely fucked, and he made a mental note to avoid it, at least for the first couple hours or so.

A soft smile took over Jack’s face when Race nodded a little bit. “See? The night’ll be fun, I swear.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see.” Neither of them missed when the corners of Race’s mouth twitched up, and neither of them said anything about it either. For once they both remained in a comfortable silence as they did their jobs. Ironically, before parties Jack got unusually calm, like how everything gets quiet before a storm; the storm in Jack’s case was usually getting completely wrecked and getting ridiculously clingy and handsy with his rather sober boyfriend. Again, he had no idea how those two had gotten together.

But, this was the last room Race had to decorate and he found himself taking it pretty seriously. Attention to detail was sort of his thing, if it wasn’t, he would have gotten murdered in all of his classes. Physics, especially astrophysics, fell apart if you didn’t pay attention to everything down to a tee. But he really didn’t need to think about that class right now, fuck that class.

A comfortable silence hung in the kitchen as the two worked. Jack mixing various  drinks, alcoholic and non, into the punch, and Race putting webs up wherever he could reach. 

The last strand was just being put up with perfect precision as Blink and Davey walked in. 

“Hey guys,” Blink said, “Looks good out there, thanks for helping.”

Race’s eyes widened for a second before he looked down and nodded, he could not look at Blink with a straight face right now and Blink didn’t take well to being laughed at.

“No problem,” Jack said, with significantly less composure than Race. He even looked Blink up and down for a few seconds before Davey shot him a look that could stop a heart. “Nice costume you got there Blink.”

Blink smirked and nodded, holding out his arms so that they could all fully appreciate the kimino he’d thrown on, with what looked like nothing underneath. “Thanks man, found it at goodwill, who’d donate this? It’s awesome.”

Awesome was a description that Race probably wouldn’t use himself. It was threadbare and a weird mixture of faded gold and blue with some sort of nonsensical pattern that drew your eyes to places they’d rather not go. 

It was actually fucking hilarious the longer he looked at it.

“It’s not much of anything,” Race said, “Why is does the neck go down so low?”

Blink shrugged and said nothing, instead choosing to turn on his heel dramatically. The fringed edge of the kimono swirled at his feet and showed off too much leg to be comfortable with, and as he door swung shut behind him it looked like Jack was checking out his ass before Davey slapped the back of his head.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Race snickered when Jack blushed for a half second and tried to stutter out an excuse.

“I don’t want to hear it, just go change into your costume,” Davey said. 

Jack nodded and was out of the kitchen before anything else could be said, he almost tripped over his damn feet at the rate he was going. Davey rolled his eyes affectionately and walked over to the punch bowl.

Race had to give Davey one thing, his tolerance was pretty high. If he was fucking Jack and he checked someone out he’d get a lot more than a cuff to the back of the head.

Davey never seemed awfully bothered though. Race asked why once and Davey had just stared at him, frowning, for a few seconds before saying, “I trust him, he wouldn’t do anything, he knows it would hurt me and he would never do it.”

Race had been a bit taken aback by the rawness of the answer and hadn’t gone into the subject any further.

And he wasn’t about to now.

Instead, he walked over to the punch bowl Davey was leaning over. “That shit is poison,” his lip curling as he leaned over the bowl himself, “It smells like death.”

“According to Jack it tastes like heaven, somehow.” Davey ladeled a shot’s worth into one of the solo cups they had next to the bowl and raised it to his lips slowly. Before he got there he shot Race a glance. “Should I?”

Race held up his hands. “Not gonna be held responsible if that kills you.” 

He really had no idea what happened if Davey mixed any amount of alcohol with his medication, in the two years they’d been in college it had never once happened. But Jack was very serious about it, and he didn’t want to mess with Jack when it came it Davey, nobody did really.

As Davey shrugged and took a sip, the door swung back open, with absolutely perfect comedic timing.

Jack stood in the entranceway in full costume, hands on either side of the doorframe. His wide smile quickly faded as he saw Davey taking a sip of his drink.

Race almost fell down laughing, his side actually started to hurt within seconds of seeing Jack. “W-what are you supposed to be?”

He got no response as Jack shouldered past him, covering his side almost completely in glitter, and snatched the ladle away from Davey. “What are you doing?”

“What are you  _ wearing _ ?” Davey asked. The look of shock in his face was too much for Race and he leaned on the counter for support as he fell into another laughing fit.

“I asked first.”

“My question is way more valid.”

Jack rolled his eyes and took the ladle from Davey. Race was trying to gain some composure behind him. “I gotta-hic-agree with him Jack.”

“Davey,” Jack said, “This will literally kill you, it almost killed Sniper. And Sniper once drank an entire bottle of Svedka and went to his Calculus class the next morning and aced a fucking test. He drank this and was down for a good two days.”

“Christ I just sipped it, and  _ please _ tell me what the  _ fuck _ you’re wearing.” Davey was trying to hold back a laugh of his own now and Jack just kept a completely straight face and it was actually killing Race.

“P-hic-please Jack,” Race said. He kept trying to hold his breath to stop hiccuping but he kept laughing because Jesus Christ, Jack was standing in the middle of the kitchen in what looked like a tracksuit? But it was definitely covered entirely in glitter, and what looked like feathers. Truly though, he had no idea because now his eyes were watering and he couldn’t stop fucking  _ laughing. _

_ “ _ I’m  _ Madonna _ you uncultured swine,” Jack started, “And Davey that shit probably has seventy percent alcohol, I know, I made it-”

“Jack that is in no way Madonna.”

“Yeah-hic-you look like Madonna fucked an arts and crafts class,” Race snorted. 

Davey barked out a laugh as Race hiccuped loudly again. “Look what you did Kelly, you gave me the the hiccups and managed to-hic-find a Katy Perry sex outfit.”

Jack shrugged, ignoring the insult, and looked down at his outfit. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is what she looks like.”

“She has blond hair.”

“She’s a foot shorter than you.”

“I don’t even think she’s ever worn that outfit, and that’s  _ saying something _ -”

“Okay!” Jack shouted, both of his hands up in a sort of surrender as he cut them off, “I get it, you two hate my costume, whatever, it’s fine, I don’t need emotional support.”

Jack rolled his eyes, hands on his hips, when Davey put a hand on his shoulder sympathetically. They looked like opposite ends of some weird spectrum; Davey had thrown on an army jacket and Race helped him iron on some patches and lent him his combat boots. It was nice and pretty lowkey. Jack looked like a fourth grade art class threw up on him.

“Jack, I love it. I don’t know what it is, but I love it.” When he pulled his hand away he had to wipe it on his jeans because it was covered in glitter, but Jack took the gesture well enough. He still shot Race a look but went from looking offended to mildly annoyed, a win if there ever was one. 

“Good, because I had to ask Specs for help on how to get all the glitter to stick-”

“Did a pretty shitty job-” Race cut in.

“-And I spent a lot of time on it and at least I’m not wearing a pervert-kimono like Blink okay.” That ASPCA commercial look was on his face again and Davey smiled and patted his shoulder. It was almost cute.

“I would hug you but I don’t want glitter all over me.”

A whine escaped Jack’s throat and he shoved at Davey’s chest. “All bets are off once I get drunk.”

Davey pulled him in for a quick kiss. Race rolled his eyes. Jack tried to lengthen the kiss. Race groaned.

“Get a room.”

“Get a boyfriend.”

“That’s biphobia.”

“Not like you could get a girlfriend-”

Mush walked in just as Race opened his mouth. Probably for the best, most of what would have come out was vulgar anyway.

And Mush could tell, if the smirk on his face meant anything. Davey smiled sheepishly while Race and Jack shrugged at Mush, glaring at each other with a practiced mock seriousness. 

The whole thing must have looked pretty funny with Jack dressed up like he was, and Mush cracked up for a second.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt the weird energy in here, but can one or two of you go pick up the pizza?” Jack lit up immediately and Mush said, “You’d be taking my car so there’s no way you’re going in there like that.”

“Nobody appreciates the fucking-”

“Davey? Race? Can you guys go?” Mush said while cutting Jack off effortlessly, you could really tell they went way back sometimes, “Me or Blink would but we’re waiting for people so we don’t want to leave just yet.”

“Good with me,” Davey said, turning to look at Race with a shrug. He knew Davey was trying to give him a break from Jack for a bit and appreciated the gesture.

“Same,” Race said, “When should we go?”

Mush pulled out his wallet and handed them a couple twenties. “Now if you want, and that should cover it. It’s from Giovanni’s, you know where that is, right?”

“Yeah, on Cleveland and Ashburn,” Davey piped up. Race had no concept of streets, just sort of navigated on the landmark system, so he had no idea if what Davey said was correct. Mush did however.

“Yep, it’s under ‘Blink’,” he said, “Keys are by the front door, thanks guys.”

They both nodded. Jack leaned back against the counter, the offended look back on his face. Race was damn happy he was about to leave.

“I’ll go start the car,” he offered, swinging the door shut behind him before Davey or Jack got a word out. He loved them both, really, but he was on edge because of the whole Katherine thing and his temper was shorter than normal. 

And he’d managed to get distracted enough to forget about Katherine for an hour or so. But now he had no fucking clue what he was going to do, she was way out of his league.

As he got in the car he had a few ideas formulating of how to approach the situation, and as he turned the key into the ignition he narrowed it down to what he considered a pretty solid approach: get buzzed to gain the courage to ask her out, ask her out, and if she said yes, celebrate and get drunk. If she said no, get absolutely and completely wasted. 

He thought he could handle that.

* * *

 

“Make a left here.”

“What street is this?”

“Cleveland, I still don’t know how you can drive without knowing any streets.”

Race flipped on his turn signal and turned. “The landmark system hasn’t failed me yet.”

“‘Yet’ is sort of the key word there Race,” Davey said. 

“Sarcasm isn’t a great color on you Davey,” Race said lightly. He heard Davey snort and smiled a little bit; it was really nice being alone with Davey sometimes, there wasn’t a ton of pressure to entertain like there was with Jack sometimes. They were light and comfortable, familiar enough to enjoy the silence between them without the constant desire to break it.

Giovanni’s was coming up on the right and Race changed lanes and turned in. Davey unbuckled his seatbelt before the car was fully parked and Race handed him Mush’s money.

“Be right back.”

The passenger side door shut as Race nodded. He watched Davey walk in and let his head lean back on the rest behind him; exhaustion still pulled at the edges of his brain, despite being out and driving, which probably wasn’t safe.

Popping each of his knuckles, he bit back a yawn and opened his eyes wide for a second. If he was tired now, he’d be out as soon as he got any alcohol in him, which was devastating to his plan. Not that it was that good of a plan to begin with.

Katherine was, well,  _ seemed _ amazing. But he’d been through this routine enough times to recognize that it almost never worked out, he usually didn’t know the person well enough to approach the situation correctly.

Overthinking was usually an issue too, and he was definitely starting to do it now. And he could feel it start to drag him down ever so slightly.

A minute or so into his exhausted little spiral, there wa a knock on the passenger window that nearly gave him a heart attack. He scrambled back in his seat for a second before seeing Davey holding about four pizzas and struggling with the door with one hand.

“Hold on,” he said and reached over to push open the door.

“Thanks,” Davey said, “Thought I was gonna drop them, you looked like you were sleeping when I came out.” 

As he pulled out Race could see Davey frowning at him in his peripheral vision, concern radiating off of him in waves and Race struggled to keep his eyes on the road. 

“Are you okay?”

Left turn. “Fine.”

“I just- you don’t seem fine.”

Stop sign.

“Did I do something, because you weren’t like this at Mush and Blink’s and I’m the only one here-”

Red light. Brakes slam. “It’s not you, I’m just-”

A few seconds of silence pass as Race struggles for words. Davey never struggles for words, it’s annoying sometimes, to be at a one-sided sort of loss. English majors were universally like that he supposed.

“’m tired, I guess,” he said, “I feel like I’m gonna end up disappointed with this whole thing, y’know?”

“The thing with Katherine?” Davey asked.

The left turn signal turned green and Race tapped the wheel impatiently. “Yeah.”

Davey started tapping his foot, Race could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. “Is it really going to kill you if it doesn’t work out?” he asked.

Green light, the car lurched forward with more than necessary force.

“I don’t know,” he said, “I just don’t really feel like taking an L right now, it hasn’t been a great day so far.”

Lane change, a Buick behind them leans on the horn and Race rolls his eyes.

“You don’t have to ask her out tonight y’know,” Davey said, “You can just talk to her, can’t really go wrong with that.”

A nod.

“This isn’t all about her right? Doesn’t seem like you to get messed up over a crush like that.”

Half a nod. “I think it’s a mixture of stuff,” he checked his blindspot between moving to the far right lane, “I’m tired, and still worried about my midterm and I can feel myself flipping between moods and I hate being aware of that sort of stuff.”

A rare silence stretched between that for about a block. He’d gone deeper than he meant to and the guilt started rising in his throat, mixing with the programmed apology that almost managed to get out before Davey spoke again.

“I used to hate it too, feeling myself getting stressed more and more, but I think I’d rather be aware that it’s happening than have it hit all the sudden, if that makes sense.”

Another red light and the right turn signal flipped on. Traffic was heavy and he waited.

“I get that, but like-” he struggled for words again, “-like do you ever just not want to deal with it?”

A gap opened up and Race stepped on the gas, he could feel himself lean to the side as he took the turn a bit too fast. He smirked a bit when he saw Davey holding the handle on the ceiling.

“Jesus why do you turn like that?” he asked, a breath escaping him as their speed levelled out, letting go of the handle. “But yes, I don’t ever really want to deal with it, but I have to, or it builds up.”

The turn on to Mush and Blink’s block was about a mile up, he was tempted to put on cruise control but it wasn’t really worth it. “I get that.”

“You don’t have to bury that though, you can always talk to me about it. Even if I’m not there, Jack is surprisingly helpful with that sort of stuff, he’s helped me a lot.”

“I can see it,” Race said, “And thanks man, that’s means a lot.”

Davey nodded as Race turned off the main road, curving into Mush and Blink’s driveway a few seconds later. He shifted into park and smiled lightly at Davey, partly for his sake, partly because he felt a little bit better. 

“No problem,” Davey said with a smile of his own, “And you’ll feel better as the night goes on, it’ll distract from the stress.” He pushed open his door and Race got out after him, rushing to the door and holding it open for Davey.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Race said. He shut the door and watched Blink take the pizzas from Davey and bring them into the kitchen, kimono flaring up at his heels when he walked. Davey following him and greeting a what sounded like an already buzzed Jack from the kitchen.

Mush walked out of the kitchen and threw Race a grateful glance. “Thanks for picking them up.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Race said. He shrugged off his jacket and went off to find Jack and Davey, he heard something like giggling from the kitchen and took his bet, walking toward it

As he actually entered the the kitchen and saw the source of said giggling, Jack who was leaning on Davey for support at whatever had been so funny, he heard the front door open.

Someone, suspiciously Romeo esque, shouted, “The party don’t start till  _ I  _ walk in.”

Blink rushed out from where he’d been smirking at the laughing Jack to welcome people in and Jack managed to gain come composure and perked up a bit more, if that was possible, too. 

“Let’s go!” 

Davey shot Race an apologetic look as Jack pulled him by the sleeve out of the kitchen, leaving Race alone. He let out a sigh and opened the fridge, might as well kick it off with a beer before the place got crowded.

Just as he walked toward the door leading to the hallway he hear an exuberant, “Happy Halloween!” Followed by several cheers.

He really hoped it would be.


	3. Vodka Diet Cokes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party kicks off and some unexpected events unfold that leave Race feeling, well, lots of things really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I'm playing a game with myself called, "Let's see how overboard I can go until I have to make this it's own chapter"
> 
> aka this chapter was suppose to be the climax but it got way too long

About an hour after Romeo showed up,  _ perfectly _ on time, seriously the guy would rather die than show up a minute late to anything, most of the people had arrived. A majority of those people were already well on their way to being hungover the next day. Which was courtesy of Jack’s homemade punch, he could smell it on pretty much everyone except Davey from about a mile away.

And he had to say, it was a lot more lowkey than he’d expected. He knew pretty much everyone there, despite them being upperclassmen, and so far nobody had gotten violent, so that was a plus. A few people had tried to bring back the ‘Rocky’ thing after a drink or two, but Race could snapback pretty quick with some shitty nicknames of his own, and it got shut down fast enough.

He’d been right earlier too, about the place looking cool. They had orange lights going and some low music, Blink’s jack-o-lanterns were lit up and looked fantastic. Personally, he thought his spider webs tied it all together but that might have been a little bit bias.

In terms of costumes, Blink’s kimono had been a huge hit surprisingly enough. Specs had laughed for a good minute or two before Blink started yelling about unappreciative friends, but overall he’d actually gotten some compliments. He’d gotten even more stares and widened eyes than said compliments, but Blink basked in any and all reactions to his look, so it went over well.

Race had started to realize that the true purpose of the kimono was to make it easier for Blink to be handsy with Mush because they were only an hour in but those two had gone at it a few times already. 

Even more surprising was that a few people actually looked at Jack and said ‘Madonna!’ right away. Davey and Race stared at Albert and Elmer as they guessed that one, Jack’s own face lighting up. He had a suspicion that Jack had tipped them off beforehand, but he didn’t harp on it because Jack looked like Christmas morning every time someone guessed it right and he didn’t have the heart to shut him down. 

Jack had already downed two cups of his punch and was already trying to pull Davey toward one of the bedrooms with minimal success. A norm for him really.

But Katherine still hadn’t shown up. Davey shot him a sympathetic look now and 

again whenever he caught him glancing toward the front door. He’d stopped looking to avoid the pity after a while

She’d show up soon enough anyway. Hopefully.

But distraction was actually a damn good piece of advice and he’d been chatting with Jojo, dressed as  _ Batman _ , for a while and was actually enjoying himself.

“It’s so confusing to me that you’re like, a genius or something,” Jojo said. They’d gotten on the topic of majors and ‘astrophysics’ usually got a response like that.

He managed to brush off the compliment well enough. “Honestly, my classes are killing me. You should see some of the other people in my class, they’re like Matt Damon in  _ Good Will Hunting  _ level shit, I swear to god.” 

A laugh and Race let himself chuckle a bit too. Davey had once told him that even if you weren’t in a good mood, the physical action of smiling could help make you feel better. He might be right.

“At least they’re interesting people man,” Jojo said, “Business majors are either stuck up or boring, it’s awful.” He took a sip of his punch and made a face. “Also what’s in this? It tastes like-” 

Race cut him off as he started snapping his fingers while he thought. “-Vodka and red bull?”

“Yeah! A weird mix of that and some other shit.”

“I saw Jack making it earlier,” Race said, “It’s like a molotov cocktail of alcohol.”

Jojo nodded and put his cup down. “It tastes fucking awful, I’m gonna go get a beer, want one?”

Race shook his head and Jojo walked off. He’d been nursing a vodka diet coke for the last half hour in an attempt to keep himself relatively sober for an hour or so. If Katherine didn’t show up by then she probably wasn’t going to at all, so he might as well let himself get wasted at that point.

Wandering over to the couch, he saw Jack whining and pulling at Davey’s sleeve impatiently. Davey looked more amused than anything, now almost completely covered in glitter from Jack’s costume.

It was a funny enough scene to keep his attention.

“C’mon Davey,” Jack whined. He kept moving his hand to the neck of Davey’s t-shirt in what looked like a failing attempt to be seductive.

Davey laughed and shoved lightly at Jack’s chest, glitter falling off of the tracksuit and onto his own chest. Bright eyes flicked over Jack’s shoulder to Race, who was watching with a smirk as Jack tried to climb on top of his boyfriend.

“Hey Race.”

Jack clumsily turned around once Davey said his name and smiled goofily at him. “Race!”

“Jack!” Race replied, smile clearer on his face now as he sat down on Jack’s other side. He took the dangerously full solo cup from Jack’s hand and set it on the side table, earning a relieved look from Davey and a groan from Jack.

“No fair! The night’s young Racer,” Jack said. There was a hint of a slur on the end of his sentence and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Exactly,” Race said, “Slow down a bit.” He smiled a bit when Jack groaned and leaned more into Davey. The only time he’d let himself admit Jack was sort of cute was when he was drunk, then Jack either wasn’t aware of it or would forget it the next day. 

The door opened before he had a chance to verbalize. 

“Katherine!”

Race’s head whipped toward the door.

Blink was hugging a laughing Katherine and jealous sprang into his chest out of nowhere. After a few seconds he fought it down; Blink was as gay as the day was long and he’d already moved onto the next guest. But the fact that he even got jealous was a bit of a red flag, and he tried to take as big a mental step back as he could.

But damn, Katherine looked amazing. She had on some sort of long flowing red dress, and he saw it wisp at her heels as she passed him with a bottle of wine in the direction of the kitchen. 

From the hat he guessed she was a witch, so was Sarah actually, Davey’s sister. They’d both thrown on hats with dresses and he could have sworn he saw Sarah’s eyes lingering after Katherine from the back of the room as she walked into the kitchen. 

He didn’t have any time to think about it though, Mush was staggering over with two other guys in tow and blocked his view of the door.

“Okay, that’s Race,” Mush said, waving in Race’s general direction with one hand and the other slung along his shorter friend’s shoulder, “And those two, well, pretty much one at this point, Jesus Jack get a room, are Davey and Jack.”

“They’re together, if you couldn’t tell,” Race said.

Mush laughed and the other two grinned, truthfully they also looked slightly uncomfortable, but he couldn’t really blame them. Jack had finally gotten to first base after his valiant effort and was trying his hardest to get to second right there on the couch.

“Race, this,” Mush shook the shorter guy he had his arm around, “Is Spot, and this,” he gestured to the significantly taller guy on his left, “Is Smalls.” 

Race’s eyebrows shot up at the second nickname, the guy had to be six foot something and was smirking lightly at Race’s surprise.

“The nicknames are pretty weird, I know. Our dorm insists on them” Smalls said in a thick New York accent, “Mine’s funny enough but Spot’s makes no sense.”

Spot snorted and nodded a bit, he looked awfully comfortable with Mush half hanging off of him and he wondered if they were in the same year or something. 

Race also noticed Spot was dressed as a lifeguard, tank top and whistle everything. He almost let himself stare at the guy’s arms for a second or two before he reminded himself to stay focused. 

“Don’t worry, mine’s weird too,” Race said, “I placed a few bets down at the track, y’know, up at Sheepshead?” Spot and Smalls nodded, “And won some decent money, Jack called me Racetrack ‘cause of it and it stuck.”

Spot snorted again, and  _ again _ , Race reminded himself to stay focused even if it was sort of cute, and tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible. 

“Don’t  _ ever _ play poker with him though,” Mush said as he leaned, or tilted, Race wasn’t 100% sure how drunk he was at the moment, “he’s a genius, counts cards.”

Race snorted then, “Bullshit, you just can’t play to save your life.”

“Beat you once-”

“Playing with your boyfriend doesn’t count, two people’s cheating.”

Mush rolled his eyes, “Whatever, Mr. fuckin’ astro-whatever,” he started leading Spot and Smalls into the kitchen, “We’ll get you drunk enough to play fair Racer.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Race said after him. The three of them disappeared into the kitchen and he leaned back onto the couch. Poor decision really. Tilting his head more than five degrees to the right gave him an eyeful of the couple of the goddamn year, and he shot back up as fast as he leaned down.

“Animals,” he said under his breath as he stood. He had to do find Katherine, or maybe not Katherine, the whole ‘straightforward’ thing was a lot scarier now that it was time for him to actually do it. 

He started for the kitchen anyway, a beer wouldn’t hurt if he chickened out. 

“Race!” A hand pulled at his sleeve just as he was about to open the kitchen door. Crutchie pushed a solo cup into his hand and smiled at him a bit hazily. “Please drink some of this, if you don’t I will and I don’t need to be more hungover than necessary tomorrow.”

Race chuckled a bit. “This shit is toxic Crutch, neither of us need this,” he started backing toward the door again, “Want me to grab you a beer? I’m gettin’ one for myself.”

For some reason it looked like Crutchie paled a little bit as Race backed into the door and swung it open, but he shrugged it off. Turned around and entered the kitchen. 

He’d really come to regret that move.

Somehow almost the whole kitchen was empty, and he took back everything he said about being happy there were less people because more people might have prevented this whole goddamn thing.

But no, the only two people in there were Sarah and Katherine. 

They’s actually managed to get as far with each other as Davey and Jack had by the time he turned around. It felt like one of those moments where it would have been really convenient for him to be holding a glass. He could have dropped it and the shattering might have pulled them apart.

But no. He didn’t have a glass, there was no cinematic effect to what he was seeing and he just sort of backed away, door shutting and his mouth struggling to keep from falling open because  _ fuck _ .

“Fuck, I’m sorry Race-” Crutchie said. 

“I’m going to  _ murder _ Davey,” Race said, the lack of emotion in his voice scared him just a little but he couldn’t really care less right now because fucking  _ Davey _ had to have known about this shit. He got half a step before he felt Crutchie’s hand on his wrist, then felt himself being pulled in the direction of one of the bedrooms.

“Nope, you’re not,” Crutchie said as he pulled Race along. He glared at a smirk from Elmer when he opened the bedroom door and shoved a rather hollowly angry Race inside.  “Okay you gotta calm-”

“No,” Race snapped, ”He had to have known about them, it’s his fucking  _ sister _ for Christ’s sake.” He felt the shock value of the situation turning into anger and he had to direct it somewhere and Davey was really the only valid one right now. “I don’t even know why he’d do something like that-”

“He wouldn’t.”

“-like that’s just straight up trying to fuck me over,” Race said as he began pacing back and forth in front of Crutchie, who was standing with his back against the bedroom door. A part of him recognized how irrational he was being but all the stress from the whole day was starting to pile up again and coupled with shock, he was just fucking pissed okay?

Crutchie’s odd level of calm suggested he probably knew that. “Race, you know there’s no way Davey would try and screw you over, or  _ anyone _ over really,” he said, “I think you're blaming him man, it’s nobody's fault.”

Again, Race knew that deep down and he didn’t really understand why he was getting so mad because he never got mad over this stuff but he felt it mixed with other emotions he couldn’t identify and he  _ hated  _ it.

“I just think you gotta de-stress dude, this obviously isn’t about Katherine, you barely knew her.” 

Crutchie’s words sort of stung but Race stopped pacing anyway, it was making him more anxious. “I-you’re probably right but, like, I feel like that was just the straw that broke the camel’s back, y’know?” Race said as he sat down on the bed, “The night is just shit and I can’t even leave because I’ll just sit in my dorm thinking about my fucking midterm and this just  _ sucks _ .”

The anger actually lowered pretty significantly after he said that, leaving him sort of hollow, and he raked a hand through his hair because he hated this weird rollercoaster of emotions he’d been having lately. 

“Okay,” Crutchie’s voice sounded small from across the room, “That makes a lot of sense actually.”

That was it, as it usually was with Crutchie. Davey and Jack were more apt to give advice but Crutchie usually took on the listening role.

It worked best in situations like this, if someone tried to give him advice he would have snapped at them anyway. 

“So do you want to go somewhere? We don’t have to stay here if you don’t want.”

The total lack of annoyance that his friend was ruining Halloween make Race feel like shit, and the fact that he felt like shit for having compassionate friends made it worse. “No, it’s just, I’ll be fine. I’ll probably just take like five minutes then go back out,” Race said. The good thing, he figured, is that he didn’t actually embarrass himself, Katherine and Sarah hadn’t seen him and he hadn’t made a scene or anything. Sort of a pathetically small upside but he could take it.

Crutchie was staring at him contemplatively though, and he nodded his head in the direction of the door. “You can go back, really, I’m fine.”

“Okay, five minutes though, any more and you’ll run the risk of having Jack barging in here with Davey,” Crutchie said lightly, seemingly trying to ease the tension, and succeeding in a sense, Race didn’t feel  _ as  _ bad. 

And so, he smiled a weak smile as Crutchie left, laying back on the bed as soon as the door clicked shut. He really did just need five minutes, to try and sort everything out in his head, and to combat the wave of exhaustion that had been lingering at the back of his mind for the last half hour or so. 

It forced itself to the front of his mind after a minute.

Shut his eyes after another.

Turned his mind off after that.

* * *

 

“Race get  _ out _ .”

A pillow to the face woke Race up, which sucked because he had absolutely no memory of falling asleep in the first place. 

Also, once he pulled the pillow off his face, the room was dark, and it definitely wasn’t when he fell asleep-or if he fell asleep?-but he had to of because Jack and Davey were standing in front of him and Jack was  _ way _ drunker than he’d been when he last saw them so time definitely passed.

Damn, that stress had taken a huge toll if it knocked him unconscious; Crutchie really  _ was _ right.

“ _ Race _ ,” Jack said, and fuck Jack was still here, “Get out.” 

Davey slapped the back of his head lightly, although he looked a bit anxious too. “Calm down, he just woke up.” 

“Fuck,” Race said as he sat up, “How long was I-”

Jack let out a weird sort of animal groan and walked, well, more stumbled, toward Race. “I don’t  _ care _ ,” he pulled at Race’s sleeve, “Get  _ out _ .” 

“Jesus Christ,” Race grumbled. Finally he did stand because Jack looked like he might fall over if he kept pulling at his sleeve and Davey wasn’t helping him at all, just sort of standing and  _ waiting _ by the open door. 

Before he could even get a smartass remark in, Jack shoved him toward the door and Davey mumbled out a quick apology before slamming the door in his face.

And he was alone in the hallway. He had no idea what time it was and he could see Mush and Blink going at it on the couch and now he  _ really _ wanted to go home.

“Race!”

Crutchie walked up to him from somewhere in the living room and smiled brightly. “You sleep good?”

“You knew I was sleeping?” Race asked, “How long?”

It took Crutchie longer than it should have to answer, and the cup in his hand was a pretty decent indicator as to why. “Like an hour-ish? Maybe a little bit more, but I walked in after like five minutes and you were out.” He took a long sip of his drink and pointedly ignored Race’s eyeroll.

“Thanks for that Crutch,” he said, again, sarcasm pointedly ignored, “I think I’m gonna head out, ‘m tired and I wanna go before I let myself get drunk.”

“Can’t.”

Fuck. “Why?”

Another long sip and Race was really impatient now. “Jack’s got the keys to your guys’s ride,” he frowned a little bit, “So, like what are you-”

“Why does Jack have the keys?” Race asked. Davey always had the keys because he was the only one guaranteed to be sober, Race got them second, and Jack only if both of them were literally dead.

He let out a growl when Crutchie shrugged. “Dunno man, Davey gave them to ‘im before they went into the bedroom, and I wouldn’t bet on bein’ able to get in there now.”

He was fucking right and Race let out a groan before stalking over to where he left his jacket hanging near the kitchen door and started rummaging through it.

“What’re you looking for?”

“A smoke, I’m goin’ outside ‘till I can figure out a way to get the keys from Jack,” Race said as he pulled out a crumpled pack of Marlboro’s and a lighter, “I’ll be on the back porch.”

He didn’t wait for any confirmation before he made his way over into the kitchen, praying to god that Katherine and Sarah weren’t somehow still making out. They weren’t, and he walked quickly toward the back door leading to the porch to try and avoid the room as well as the memory.

“Fuckin’ lock,” he said. The damn thing was almost rusted through and it took him a full minute to get it turned the right way. The doorknob giving him almost as much trouble.

The night air though, once he got out into it, felt really nice. That warm feeling of sleep that misted over his skin was blown away within a few seconds by a light breeze, and stepped over so his back could lean against the house, tension leaving his back a little bit with the newfound support.

As he pulled out his cigarette he inhaled deeply, it was a lot more quiet than he expected and weirdly relaxing. More relaxing though was the cigarette itself, he lit it and after a second or two took a long drag and held it for a few seconds before exhaling.

In reality he knew he shouldn’t be smoking, what with the lung cancer and general deterioration of his respiratory system, but he only had a few a month when he got really stressed. Tonight definitely left him eligible for a smoke, the whole ‘found my crush making out with my best friend’s sister’ thing doing the trick, and  _ damn _ , it felt good.

Jack had taken a drag off his cigarette once and instantly vowed never to smoke again, didn’t like the hot feeling of the smoke in his lungs and the sting of nicotine in the back of his throat. 

For Race though, when the time was right, that was the best feeling in the world. Completely brought him back down to earth, made him feel grounded and calm when he needed it. And he’d learned how to ration himself enough to keep it from becoming a habit, Davey had made sure of that the first time he caught Race smoking their freshman year.

But now he let himself forget all the scare tactics Davey threw at him to try and get him to quit completely, and let himself take inhale after inhale until he was nearly down to the filter.

That’s when the back door squeaked open again. 

Instinctively, Race took a step back and squinted, the kitchen light making whoever was standing in the doorway more a silhouette than anything. 

“Race, right?”

The door shut behind who Race could now identify as Spot, the guy Mush had introduced him to earlier, and he nodded. 

“Yeah, and you’re Spot,” he said lightly as he took what was definitely one of the last drags off his cigarette. 

Spot nodded and Race thought he must be awfully cold without any sleeves, it wasn’t bad for an October in New York but it sure as hell wasn’t summer weather. Spot as it turns out, agreed. 

“Mind if I bum one off you? I’m cold as hell but I’m taking a break from the whole scene in there,” Spot said with a nod towards the door. 

Race pulled the pack out of his pocket and handed Spot one, lighting it once he got it in his mouth, “I feel you there.”

He pulled the lighter back as Spot inhaled and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and made to rub his arms. “Yeah, great guys and everything, just not as fun when you aren’t drunk too.”

In what was actually the first reaction of the night to Race’s blatant annoyance, Spot chuckled a bit when Race rolled his eyes. 

“Least we agree on that.”

“Definitely.”

Spot took another drag and they fell into a comfortable silence; both of them leaning against the house and looking out at the street vacantly. 

Race found himself looking over at Spot a few more times than his worn out brain would have liked, but what could he say, the guy was cut. And, as an additional bonus, he was  _ not _ attached at the mouth to a relative of one of his close friends, which set the bar awfully low but at this point that was something he actually had to consider.

“You want a drag?” Spot asked. He caught Race’s eye as he glanced over and held out his cigarette gingerly.

“Sure,” Race said, accepting the sort of peace pipe and holding it to his own lips.

He hated that he associated the unique taste with the guy’s lips beside him.

He really hated that that guy was now a foot away from him and looking at him curiously as he inhaled. 

The full moon was playing some awful fucking tricks tonight, and Race exhaled at the aforementioned, missing it, but hitting a few stars.


	4. Make it a Double

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race and Spot get back inside and lean into the party aspect of things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever to write bc i had writers block!! And it's not that long but i like it so idc!!

“Fuck can we go inside?” Spot asked as he flicked his cigarette butt onto the grass, “I’m freezing.”

Race nodded and took one last drag off his own cigarette before dropping it on the porch and stepping on it. “Sure, shoulda’ brought a jacket Spotty.”

“Gettin’ cute with the nicknames huh?” Spot asked with a bit of mocking tone. He was actually kind of funny once Race talked to him for a few minutes, sarcastic as fuck too. He could appreciate it.

Race shoved at Spot’s shoulder a bit when he opened the door, warmth seeping into both of them as the general sounds of drunkenness slammed against the closed kitchen door. 

“It’s part of my charm, yes,” Race said. He looked over at Spot and caught him halfway through an eye roll, “Not that you’d know anything about that.”

Spot snorted. “Yeah sure Mr. ‘smoking alone on the back porch’, you looked like a fuckin’ teen angst character from an eighties movie.”

The kitchen door swinging open cut off Race’s retort and the two of them looked to see Mush stumbling in. Seeing Spot and Race his face lit up and he leaned against the refrigerator for support because he would have  _ definitely  _ fallen over if he hadn’t

“There you guys are!” he said, “We thought you were like dead, or fucking, but more dead.”

Race felt a blush start to creep up his neck, but Spot just rolled his eyes and walked closer to Mush.

“Nope, we actually thought you guys were dead, alcohol poisoning and all that.”

Mush’s attention successfully turned away from them after that and Race shot Spot a grateful look, getting a wink in return. 

He didn’t get a chance to enjoy it though, probably half a second because Mush had started toward Race and basically fallen into him and started laughing. Dude was  _ hammered _ .

“Race.”

“Yes Mush.”

“No, like, Race.”

Spot started laughing and Race tried to bite back a smile of his own. “Yeah Mush?”

Mush steadied himself for a second of two with his hands on Race’s shoulders. He heard Spot crack open a beer from the fridge. Which reminded him, somehow he’d been here for almost four hours and only had one vodka diet coke, it was sacrilege 

“You gotta come into the livin’ room Race,” Mush said, with enough of a slur that he could tell what was going on in the living room. Or at least the general, extremely alcoholic idea.

He put his own hands on Mush’s shoulders. He was a big guy and Race was getting shoved over. “Why?”

Spot looked over at Race, smirking, before he moved so he was standing right behind Mush and shook the taller man’s shoulders playfully. “Yeah Mush, why?”

“B-because,” Mush said.

“Because why?” Race and Spot said in unison.

“Jinx!” Race shouted.

“What does that even mean.”

“You owe me a coke now,” Race said with a bit of a smirk when Spot rolled his eyes. “I don’t make the rules pal.”

Mush groaned and shoved at Race’s chest. His eyes were glazed over from the alcohol but he looked annoyed. “Stop-hic-flirting for two seconds and come in the living room.” 

He didn’t wait for either of them to stutter out an excuse before taking their hands and dragging them toward the door. Nearly tripping himself and the both of them, he managed to stagger out of the kitchen with a decent amount of success.

Commendable really. Race should’ve clapped him on the back if it wouldn’t have tipped him over.

Once they got out the door though, that was the real funny shit. Race actually barked out a laugh and Spot snorted, it looked like a goddamn frat party. It basically was, they just needed those Greek letters on the roof and nobody would be able to tell the difference.

Jack and Davey had reappeared, significantly more disheveled and red-faced than they had been when they kicked Race out of the bedroom. Also one of them was way drunker, and handsy, and loud. The other just looked sleepy.

And while Davey didn’t drink, his sister definitely did. She and Katherine were on the couch together, not, together together, but close enough that Race felt a pang of embarrassment even though he had nothing to be embarrassed about. He wasn’t even jealous, but he started to feel himself deflate a little when Spot bumped his shoulder. 

There was a smirk on his face and he nodded his head toward the coffee table; a few half empty bottles of vodka and some shot glasses littered the table.

“Drinking game.”

They both nodded and Mush wrapped an arm over their shoulders. “Yeah! You guys gotta try it, it’s so much fun I feel like,  _ so _ much more fun.” He started laughing and Spot and Race dragged him over to Blink. The dude was heavy as hell, and Race wasn’t even carrying most of the weight, Spot was short, but damn was he strong as fuck.

“Here’s your boyfriend,” Race said as he dropped Mush on top of Blink’s sprawled out form, getting a groan and a few mumbled curses in return.

He didn’t drop him  _ that  _ hard, just hard enough to get a laugh out of Spot before they walked over to Jack and Davey by the table. It felt really fucking nice to make Spot laugh actually, he didn’t really seem like the laughing type.

He didn’t get to think about that for much longer though, a hand grabbed wrist and he landed on the couch, also a knee or something because he felt like someone or something was stabbing his back.

“What the fu-”

“ _ Racer _ !” 

He groaned and looked up, from Jack’s lap, because Jack had pulled him into his goddamn lap. “Jack what-”

“No, no, no, shhh,” Jack said, “Racer, I-I gotta tell you something.” He put a hand clumsily on Race’s shoulder and pushed him down when he tried to sit back up; Jack lost none of his strength when he was drunk which wasn’t really fair. “You gotta  _ listen _ .”

“Yeah, listen  _ Racer _ ,” Spot said from his seat on the floor with a smirk. 

There was no way he didn’t see the blush when Race smiled back that time, but again, didn’t have time to think about it because Jack would not leave him the fuck alone.

“What Spot said,” he slurred, “Now dude, you gotta get drunk okay?” He pointed at Spot, “You too, only Davey’s gotta be sober, you two have to get drunk, it’s a holiday.”

It sounded ridiculous and the look Race shared with Davey reaffirmed that; he even mouthed a ‘sorry’ in his direction, which was helpful. But now Spot was pouring a shot and another and he could see Katherine and Sarah out of the corner of his eye and y’know what? Fuck it. It was a holiday.

“That’s a very eloquent point Jack,” Race said, “Spot?”

“I agree.”

Race smiled from where he was laying on top of Jack, who was laying on top of Davey, who looked like he was falling asleep despite Jack’s pretty obnoxious laughing. 

Spot passed a shot over the table and Race struggle to sit upright. Jack’s arm was wrapped around his waist and he didn’t seem quite ready to move it, he hadn’t been exaggerating with the clingy thing.

Spot smiled when Jack pulled Race back down after he took the shot. “You three are so cute together.”

Making a face to try and cover up his growing blush, Race said, “Just drink.”

“Fine, one.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

They both downed the shot and it definitely was  _ not  _ straight vodka because it tasted fucking awful. Jack clumsily took the glass from his hand and placed it on the table while Race started coughing. 

“See! You’re getting drunk, good job Racer,” he said. Once he patted Race’s head he’d really had enough and struggled off of Jack and onto the floor, despite what were numerous and excessively loud complaints from the drunken idiot above him. 

“Shh Jack, let him go,” Davey said. 

Race turned to thank Davey but it turned into a grimace. Jack had gotten on top of him in that half of a second before Race turned to face him and they were going at it pretty decently. 

“Animals,” he said quietly, reaching for the bottle that Spot had placed on the table. “Want another Conlon?” he asked. Spot’s name tasted great and Race blamed the vodka and the way that Spot nodded at him from across the table, nudging his cup forward. 

“Hell yeah, let’s go Higgins. It’s a holiday after all.”

“That enough?” Race asked after a second of pouring. 

Spot shook his head. “Nope, make it a double, we gotta catch up to everyone else.” 

That got a raised eyebrow out of Race, but he poured more, for himself and Spot. “Never would have pegged you for a party animal.”

They counted, knocked it back.

“Oh and you are? Smoking by yourself on the back porch, life of the party ova’ there.”

A snort and Race poured them both another double. “Yeah, yeah, you were out there too smartass.”

Another countdown and Race could start to feel it hit him hard now. Everything started to feel softer in his head and warm because Spot was crawling over to his side of the table. 

His socked feet bumped into Race’s and he tilted his head a little. It looked cute and Race couldn’t tell if it was him or the vodka that came up with that.

“You look a little bit happier Race,” he said, “Wonder why?”

That sounded cute too. “Shut it.”

“Aw you don’t mean that,” Spot said playfully. When Race started reaching for the bottle on the table he picked it up and held it to his chest. “You’re drinking too fast, you can’t pass out and leave me alone with everyone.”

“C’mon,” Race whined, “I’m not a lightweight.”

“Bet.”

Race shoved Spot. Spot shoved Race. Neither of them had one hundred percent of their coordination, but at least Spot managed to put the bottle back onto the table before Race launched himself at him. 

He felt weirdly giddy as he tried to pin down one of Spot’s arms. Probably the alcohol, but he slipped and shoved at Spot’s chest weakly when he tried to flip him over. Jack kept his strength when he got drunk, and it seemed like Spot did too but Race didn’t. “Cheater.”

A growl slipped out when Spot got an arm around his neck and pulled him onto his back, legs moving to pin Race’s once they started to kick out.

“How’s that cheating?” he asked, “I mean, I am on the wrestling team-”

“Wait what-”

Spot grabbed at Race’s wrists while he processed that, taking way longer than a sober astrophysics major would have. Again, he blamed the alcohol and the feeling on Spot’s breath on his face once he got both of his hands pinned down.

“-but I don’t really see how that’s  _ cheating _ ,” he finished triumphantly. 

Race was too drunk to try and bite back the stream of giggles so he didn’t. It wasn’t even that funny but he was pinned down in the middle of their friend’s living room and nobody even cared and he couldn’t stop  _ laughing _ . 

“Y-yes it is,” he said after gaining a bit of composure, “Because I’m drunk and you’re stronger than me.” He kicked his feet a little for emphasis and tried his best to focus his blurry gaze on how Spot’s hair was framing his face while he looked down. 

A goofy smile took over Spot’s face, not so big that it was all from the alcohol, and he cocked his head to the side. “I’m drunk too Racer, seems fake.” 

Race groaned and pulled at his wrists. He wasn’t really trying, the room was spinning a bit and if he was being totally honest he didn’t mind the position that much. Shots usually made him honest so he didn’t surprise himself with that one.

“Not as drunk,” he finally said, “You have a bigger t-tolerance than me.”

“‘M smaller than you!”

“Yeah,” Race said clumsily, “But you’re like, stronger, so you can drink more.” That didn’t make sense but it was the most coherent sentence he could form right now.

“Not true,” Spot said, although he did let go of Race’s wrist, didn’t move off his waist though. 

Race decided he liked drunk Spot. “I like you when you’re drunk Spotty.”

He wasn’t sure if Spot heard him when he reached and got the bottle of liquor from the table. After unscrewing the cap he passed the bottle to Race. “You get your reward Rocky.”

Drinking was hard when you were laying down but Race got most of it in his mouth before he passed it back to Spot. Proudly he managed not to cough through the burning feeling of it going down his chest, and now he really felt great. 

“Thanks Spot,” he said, and his mouth felt weird now which he didn’t really get because he wasn’t that drunk yet he barely even  _ drank _ .

Spot gulped down a bit from the bottle and clambered off of Race, settling down on his stomach next to him. “You’re really drunk.”

“So’re you.”

Spot nodded and yawned. “Yeah.”

It felt like Race should say something but everytime he started, like, making a sentence in his head it got fuzzy, and talking sucked, he hated talking. 

No matter how hard he tried to focus his eyes on the cable box to read the time he couldn’t, but it must have been late because he could see Mush and Blink tangled together, asleep, on a chair. The music was still playing but everyone was either too drunk to talk or passed out, except Spot and him. That felt funny.

He sort of felt funny; drunk and funny and weirdly happy right now. Stress was really fucking him up because he didn’t really have a goddamn reason to be happy.

“Hey Race?”

Oh, that was one. 

“Yeah Spot?”

He felt Spot turn on his side and did the same, it was a lot harder drunk.

“Are you drunk?” Spot asked, oddly serious.

Race frowned a little bit, he  _ thought  _ so. “Yeah, are you?”

A knee bumped against his own and Spot yawned. “Yeah.”

Race got halfway through forming a question of his own when he felt Spot move closer, enough that there was breath on his face now. It felt warm and instinctively he leaned closer to it.

He glanced up just in time to see Spot close the distance.

Drunk making out was a lot better than sober making out and nobody could say anything different. Because he wasn’t worrying about anything but the sensation of lips pressed against his own and legs tangling together and hands gripping messy hair. Senses kind of take priority over thought after enough to drink. 

Spot had to feel the same way. 

He bit Race’s bottom lip gently and smiled into Race’s mouth after he whimpered the slightest bit. For a tough guy he liked taking things slow. His mouth actually moved to Race’s neck after a minute or so and god it felt like  _ heaven _ . 

Enough like heaven to causes Race’s hands to pull harder at Spot’s hair after they drunkenly got a grip. Enough to let out a sound that there was no way in hell he would have ever let escape sober. 

Even enough that he pulled away from Spot for the half second it took to crash their lips sloppily together.

“Fuck,” Spot breathed more than said, and Race couldn’t help but stutter out an agreement. Everything tasted amazing in his mouth and in Spot’s, and he didn’t want to stop but did when Spot finally pulled back for longer than a breath or two. Drunk or not he knew his limit

But he really wished they could keep going, because Spot was looking at him with messy hair and a shadow cast over his face from the faerie lights and it was perfect. And soft, and late. Alcohol combined with sleepiness meant there was no way he’d be able to read the time, or anything for that matter, but he knew it was late.

Spot yawned pretty big again. “‘M tired Racer.”

“Me too Spot.”

An arm wrapped lazily around his back and pulled him into Spot, nose to nose. He felt Spot bury his head in the fabric of his jacket and felt the sudden need to like, give him something because he was perfect right now.

“Here,” Race said as he pulled the ‘medal’ Jack had given him off his neck. Halfheartedly slinging it over Spot’s head, a part of him was struggling to remember if Jack said anything about the medal but that part disappeared a second later.

“I like you Racer,” Spot mumbled into Race’s shirt, voice thick with sleep and vodka. The sentiment nearly made Race cry though.

“I like you too Spot.”

Their legs wrapped together again and Race settled his head right above Spot’s on the carpet, eyes shutting heavily and limbs curling into Spot’s as he felt himself begin to drift off.

He’d almost forgotten the comfort of falling asleep next to someone.


	5. Dumb Drunken Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of a party usually sucks but this one is really trying its best to kill Race

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had terrible writers block with this, but I finally got this chapter out! 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

For the first time in a while, the loud, jarring noise of an alarm going off didn’t wake Race up. No, this time, it was a combination headache and growingly acrid smell of smoke. If there was ever a fire he’d be the first one dead because he stayed with his eyes closed a good five minutes after he smelled it.

“Unplug the fucking toaster!”

That yell got his eyes halfway open. 

They opened the rest of the way when he realized that there was no one laying next to him on the carpet. Specifically, no  _ Spot _ . Which led to a flare of panic because last night was coming back to him awfully fast now.

Apparently slower than it had come back to Spot though, because the guy had either bolted or was somewhere in the house. The former seemed way more likely though because once he sat up and surveyed the room he sort of wanted to bolt too.

Half empty bottles of various liquor and solo cups littered the room, along with about half of the party’s guests. It felt like someone was pounding at the inside of his skull but Race forced his eyes open fully to try and make out who was still there; Davey, Jack, Crutchie, and Sarah were the only ones he could see. Mush and Blink could still be heard bickering in the kitchen. But no Spot.

Fuck.

“Race?”

Too loud.

Regardless he turned on his side to face the couch, and saw Jack. He took a small victory in the fact that he looked like shit too.

“What Jack?”

“Where’s Spot?”

A silence stretched between them. Race figured that there could be a few reasons Jack wanted to know, he’d talked to him last night too, and he wasn’t about to say more than he had too. A hungover staring contest ensued.

Race gave in first; he always did.

“Why do you want to know?”

Fuck Jack and his neutral expressions, he was supposed to be the one with the poker face. 

“Why do you care?” Jack asked evenly. Davey was curled up behind him and groaned a little bit in his sleep.

His head hurt too much for this. “I don’t.”

“Okay then where is he?”

Crutchie stirred from his place on the floor and Race really needed to hurry this up if he wanted any semblance of privacy. “I don’t know.”

A different silence and Jack broke it with a sigh.

“Well that sucks.” 

Race nodded and wished he hadn’t, his head really hurt. “Yeah, and I think I’m dying, you?”

“Same,” Jack said with a nod and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’m gonna wake up Davey in a few minutes, you wanna go to a diner? I love Blink and Mush but they can’t cook for shit and if I don’t get some greasy ass food soon I will die.”

That sounded fucking great and Race nodded before forcing himself to stand up fully. He had to piss and if he didn’t get up now he’d stay here all day and eventually the topic of Spot would come up and he really didn’t need that right now.

Or ever. There was literally no situation where he could imagine talking about Spot without dying of embarrassment or stabbing himself. Oh, well both of those combined really.

Stumbling toward the bathroom, Race tried and failed to not cringe when there was another crash from the kitchen. He wanted to go home, or at least throw up and  _ then _ go home. 

Shots were deceiving as fuck. He could do a lot of them at once and think he was fine, and within ten minutes he was out of his mind. Twenty minutes after that he was passed out and about eight hours after that came the present.

Hungover, nauseous, and piecing back the memory of the night before and hoping he was wrong. He wasn’t, never was.

And the bathroom was disgusting. Locking the door, he leaned his elbows on the counter and started running the water.

To be honest, he didn’t regret messing around with Spot. The opposite actually, it had been awesome and he would so do it again. 

But he had the tendency to make dumb drunken decisions that almost always led to waiting for someone to call back that never would because they thought that he was a dumb drunken decision. 

As he splashed water on his face he considered the fact that maybe he was just a dumb drunken decision. It sounded dramatic but to be fair, evidence in favor added up.

He’d never been in a real relationship, which was sad, he knew that. Every time he messed around or got remotely intimate with someone, he was drunk. Which was also sad, he knew that as well. And, like dumb drunken decisions, he usually fell short of expectation and didn’t seem nearly as appealing when sober. 

Again, it was sad and if he was being completely honest so was he but there was the sound of voices from behind the bathroom door and he didn’t want to be here for any longer than he had to.

Nausea hit him again as he turned off the water and stood up fully. Feet dragging, he walked out of the bathroom and came face to face with a rather pale Crutchie. 

“Hey Crutch.”

Crutchie opened his mouth to answer but pushed Race aside and slammed the bathroom door behind him before anything got out. Poor guy, somehow he’d actually managed to drink more than Race, that level of hangover should earn a reward.

“Aye Race!” Mush said as Race walked into the living room. Everyone but Crutchie looked like they were ready to go, in terms of dress, physically they all looked like shit with the exception of Davey. “Have fun last night?”

He meant it as a joke and Blink snickered a bit but it didn’t really land with the rest of the group. Especially Race.

“Fuck you.”

There was enough of an edge that Blink shut up and Mush looked a little uncomfortable. It was sort of sadistic but that made Race feel a little bit better. The silence that fell over the group after that was a mixture of tension and sickness, and when Crutchie reappeared from the bathroom they all let out a collective breath.

“Well let’s go then, we can go to that waffle house down the street if you guys want,” Sarah said in an obvious attempt to get them back on track. It was the first time Race had actually heard her say anything. Last night was the first time he’d seen her in real life, despite being roommates with her brother. There was probably something there but he didn’t want to pry too much.

But yeah, if he was honest Race felt a bitter taste on his tongue as he followed her out to the driveway, and he made a point of climbing into Davey’s car after Jack instead of filing into Sarah’s. A part of him knew she didn’t do anything but he was tired and sick and sort of sad if he was honest and he didn’t have the energy to scold himself.

“Race?” 

Jack looked back at Race from the passenger seat after clearing asking him something.

“What? Sorry I zoned out for a second,” Race said.

“Oh um, we just wanted to know if you’re good,” Jack said lightly. It was a veiled sort of lightness and it was also followed by an exchanged look between him and Davey, the perfect linguistic storm of meddling friends. 

But the silence was stretching on again and he was just drawing more attention to himself by staying quiet. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Denial was sort of his go to move in situations like this. It never panned out.

“We just wanted to make sure Racer,” Davey said as he made a right to follow Sarah’s car, “Cause if the whole thing with Spot is bothering you-”

“It’s not,” Race said quickly, “We’re not sixteen, we drunkenly made out and can move on with our lives now.”

It was a lie and Race’s ability to get attached to people too fast was a part of the collective consciousness of the car in this very moment. And as usual, Race’s stubborn personality and Davey’s tendency to be polite left Jack as the only one who would break the tension.

“Well that’s a lie.”

Some people break tension carefully, like they’re threading a needle. Jack tended to barrel into it with a hammer and see what happened.

Davey shot Jack a look and turned into the parking lot. “Jesus Jack give him a break.”

“What do you mean? It’s like he said,” Jack said, unbuckling his seatbelt so he could turn and fully face Race while Davey parked, “You guys aren’t sixteen, text him! Take some initiative Higgins!”

“Yeah Jack, because the best time to make these kind of decisions is hungover in a parking lot with you,” Race said. Jack had a point but he did too, he wanted a goddamn hour to think things over before he made a decision.

Jack opened his door and got out, sticking his head back in for a split second. “Better than making them drunk on a living room floor though.”

He slammed the door shut before Race got a word out and by the time Race got out of the car Jack was halfway to the door and Davey was waiting for him with a sympathetic look.

“Y’know he’s not  _ trying  _ to be a dick right?” Davey asked.

Race did, but again, he felt like shit physically and mentally and didn’t want to put up with it. “Yeah, it’s just his personality.”

Davey breathed out a laugh and ducked his head. They walked into the diner and got waved over to a booth by a healthier looking Crutchie. “Let’s order soon guys, I’m starving and need something to soak up Blink’s shitty punch.”

“Hey!” Blink said indignantly, “It’s not shitty, and also Jack made it so blame him.”

Davey slid into the seat next to Jack and Race sat across from him next to Crutchie. It was the last seat he wanted but they’d gotten to the table last.

“Yeah, yeah whatever, bite me,” Jack said.

Mush elbowed Race’s side lightly, he seemed like he still felt a little bad about the joke back at the house. “Nah that’s Davey’s job.”

If Race’s head had been up he might have seen Davey go red before he choked on his water and Sarah started snickering. He did lift his head in time to see Davey shoot her a glare when Jack wrapped his arm around his shoulder. 

“Like you and Kath have any room to talk there,” he said with a hint of annoyance. Again, Race knew that he wasn’t  _ trying  _ to make him feel worse, it just sort of happened that way. 

And nobody seemed to notice, which didn’t really help, and he tried to busy himself by looking through the menu. Didn’t have much of an appetite but he’d regret it if he didn’t get something down.

There were a few minutes of general exhausted chatter before the waitress took their orders. Race settled on maple pancakes and handed his menu over, pulling out his phone as soon as his hand was free. 

“Oh Race?”

He looked up and Jack was looking at him over his glass of water. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you have that medal thing I lent you?” Jack asked, “Not like on you, obviously, but back at the house or something?”

Race stiffened and Davey looked at him with wide eyes as Jack took a sip of water, oblivious. So, he didn’t have the medal. That he knew. He also knew who he gave the medal to. And he really didn’t want to have to stalk that person and ask for a tin-foil gold medal back, which he would have to do, or Jack would murder him.

And now realization was dawning on Jack and he looked like he wanted to  _ murder  _ him.

“You  _ do  _ have it Race, right?” Jack asked, voice raised enough to get their table and only their table’s attention.

“Uh-”

“Here you guys go,” the waitress said suddenly. She had a tray resting on her forearm and another on her hand and if Jack didn’t have a very deep respect for workers in the service industry then he probably would have cut her off and kept going. 

But no, she handed out their food and race managed to get a bite down before Jack was served. 

“Thank you so much,” Jack said politely as he returned her light smile. Instantly though, as she turned on her heel and walked off, the smile disappeared and he looked back at Race, who was halfway through his second bite.

“Please tell me you know where it is Race,” he said, “If you know that it’s fine, I’m fine, this is  _ fine _ .”

Race took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. He could feel Jack, and consequently Davey’s, eyes on him but took solace in the fact that Mush and Blink weren’t paying any attention to him. If the sound of their forks clinking against their plates was anything to go by that is.

“Yes, I do,” Race said tiredly. He didn’t need this shit and his pancakes were getting cold and the headache was starting to come back and just fuck this. “I’ll get it back, just, can we eat for like an hour before-”

“Fine,” Jack said, cutting him off, “one hour.”

He could be curt as hell when he wanted to be and everyone knew it, tried to ignore it, and failed pretty much every time.

And so with that eloquent statement he started digging into his omelette while Crutchie and Sarah, the goddamn peanut gallery apparently, looked between them before starting to pick at their own food. 

Race didn’t really feel hungry anymore, his mind had kicked into gear and the idea of food was repulsive again, and he pointedly ignored the concerned look Davey shot him when he pushed back his barely touched plate back.

Somehow, he had to find Spot, which was actually very easy if he asked a specific pair of people that invited him to the party, but he didn’t want to get those two people, or anyone involved for that matter. And so it became quite difficult.

But an hour can pass awfully fast when you don’t want it to and are under an immense amount of emotional pressure.

Also Jack was petty and Mush and Blink came up for a breath from their plates long enough to recognize the awkwardness. 

“Wait, what’s going on?”

“Nothin-”

“Can we get the check please?” Jack asked quickly. 

Their waitress nodded and turned toward Race. “Would you like a box for that?” 

He was the only one who hadn’t finished and he didn’t plan on it anytime soon. But certain people liked to meddle and didn’t give him that much of a choice.

“Yes,” Davey and Crutchie said in perfect time, but while Crutchie smiled kindly at the waitress as she turned to leave Davey tilted his head toward Race, concerned.

“We have to go get something I trusted Race with that he lost,” Jack said before Davey could get anything out. The tendency to be blunt was natural amongst them but Rae was going to snap if it didn’t let up soon.

Blink well, blinked and frowned. “What did he lose?”

“A-”

“I can talk Jack,” Race snapped before turning to Blink stiffly, “Some meda thing that Jack lent me that I gave to Spot last night-”

“ _ Spot _ ?” Jack asked incredulously, “That’s who you- oh.” He stopped and actually looked like he felt a little bad now, served him right.

An arm, Crutchie’s, bumped into Race’s shoulder and there was a lightness in the gesture different from the way Blink shoved at Race’s shoulder from across the table with a smirk. 

“Damn, get it Race,” he said. Even Sarah looked like she was smiling a little bit from behind her napkin and Race wanted to stab all of them.

“Shut up,” he said, head resting on his arms. This was the opposite of how he wanted this to go.

From the short burst of silence he managed to convey that pretty well. And as everybody in the world, ever, could have guessed, Jack broke that silence.

“Fuck, okay I’m sorry,” he said with a tad bit more softness in his voice, “We can, uh, wait if you want I guess-”

“Nope,” Race said, “Let’s just do it today, the day’s fucked already, not like I have anything to lose.” 

“Aw c’mon,” Crutchie said, and Race felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, “It won’t be as bad as you think, you don’t know that he’s like, avoiding you or anything.”

A withering look from Race and Davey rushed to Crutchie’s aid. “Yeah Race, you don’t know that he left because of you, it might just be because Blink and Mush’s place is a shithole.”

“Hey-”

“Yeah!” Crutchie said, “And you’ll feel better once you get it over with, I promise.”

There was a general agreement from the table, a bit disgruntled from two of them, but there was an overall feeling of unity that somehow always resulted from a hangover. Must be some sort of weird magic.

“And here’s your box dear,” the waitress said cheerfully as walked out of the kitchen, “And you guys can pay up front.”

They nodded and stood, stretching a bit as they started to shuffle toward the register. 

“Okay, can I get his number Blink? Mush?” Race asked as he bit back a yawn. He’d need to nap after this, stress again, well probably, he wasn’t really sure anymore. And he didn’t like the wrid look those two were sharing. “What?”

Blink cleared his throat. “Well, we actually don’t have his number, per se?” 

Race started to groan because of  _ course  _ and Mush cut in quickly. 

“But we know his dorm, so we can go there!” 

God this kept getting worse. 

“Yeah, and you can eat on the way there,” Davey said as he pulled Race toward the door, leaving Mush and Blink to pay. That was a tradition that none of them really talked about but they were all broke so it wasn’t really questioned. 

But food still sounded shitty and he was getting pushed into the back seat of Davey’s car with Mush and Blink squeezing in soon after. 

Fuck this.

* * *

 

“What do you mean you don’t know his actual name?”

Mush was standing a bit uncomfortably between Race and Blink, blocking what Race considered a perfect path with which to beat Blink’s skull in. Which was probably why he was standing there. That made a lot of sense actually.

“I thought that was his name!” Blink said defensively. 

Jack and Davey were watching from near the door, eyes flicking between the pair as they got progressively louder and closer to each other and Mush. Crutchie had an class, they all pitied him, and Race was 95% sure Sarah was going to meet Katherine so neither of them came with. Thank god.

But yeah, Blink was lying his ass off. “He was literally at your  _ house _ yesterday, and him and Smalls were talking about their fucking nicknames, god! 

“He has a point there Blink.”

“Whose side are you on Mush?”

They started going back and forth and Race wanted to punch both of them so goddamn much. But no, he had self control and the hyperawareness that any random student, including Spot, could come down here any second.

“Can’t we just ask somebody?” Davey piped up from the back, three heads whipping to face him, equal levels of annoyance on all of their faces.

“Yeah Dave,” Blink said, “Let’s just ask the invisible tour guide of people’s rooms and personal spaces, oh wait.” 

Davey rolled his eyes. “Well Blink, people do  _ live  _ here. Eventually someone has to come.”

“The man makes a good point,” Mush said, playing the mediator was sort of his thing. It actually shined a huge light on how Blink and him got together; the mediator and the overdramatic, like something straight out of Shakespeare. 

On some sort of cosmic cue, they heard footsteps coming down the hall after Mush made that rather valiant statement, and Davey shot Blink a pointed look when a rather short guy in a muscle shirt rounded the corner. 

Predictably, the sight of five strange guys standing in the entrance of the dorm put him off a bit, and he stopped to stare at them for a few seconds.

“Can I help you?”

Race fucking blanked, he was tired and now the whole confrontation thing was very real. Jack stepped in rather quickly.

“Yeah we just wanted to know what room Spot Conlon?” he looked at Blink for confirmation on the last name and got a nod in return, “is in? Well not like, all of us, just like, some of us I guess.”

It was a lame ending but the guy looked amused. “Okay whatever, he’s in 105, and if you like, rob him or something I can describe all of you to the cops.” 

He walked off, leaving the rest of them standing with a mixture of confusion and well, yeah, just confusion. But now they had to do something and Race definitely didn’t want to do it.

Jack clapped and snapped him out of his reverie. “Well! Great, c’mon Race, let’s go, the rest of you guys stay here so we don’t look like a creepy ass gang.”

Pulling Race off before he had time to process anything, they got to 105 way too fast. And he knew the guy hadn’t lied because Spot’s name was messily scribbled on a post-it note stuck to the door, next to another one with ‘Buttons’ written across it in a much larger and neater script.

Jack pounded on the door before Race was ready.

“Wait fuck-”

“Nope,” Jack said, back against the door jam as the sound of his knock faded out, "You’ll freak out and bail, no holdin’ back Higgins.”

He had a point, but after about thirty seconds, they both started to worry it was for shit. It took about half a second to get from the farthest point in a dorm to the door, so they were either dead or gone because Jack knocked really fucking loud.

Another thirty seconds and two knocks and Race was officially done. “Well, we tried, better luck next time.”

He started to turn around let out a whine when Jack pushed him back by the shoulder. “Just leave your number, face your problems, take some initiative!”

“Really loving those one-liners lately aren’t you Jack,” Race said under his breath as he dug in his pocket for his pen. He always had a pen and had the habit of writing stuff on his hands, they went hand in hand, and he would do pretty much anything in order to get the fuck out of this building.

Satisfaction radiated off of Jack as Race scribbled his name and number on Spot’s post-it. “Fine, happy?”

“Yes.”

A yelp escaped Jack’s previously grinning lips when Race kicked him in the shin halfheartedly as he walked past.

He just wanted to go back to his room and forget all this shit and hope that Spot couldn’t read his number.

Or could. He didn’t know which option was scarier.

* * *

 

Race fell face first into his pillow the second the door shut behind him.

After an awkward ride back and a promise to Davey that he would eat something before he and Jack came back later, he was finally alone.

Normally, that would have sucked because he tended to overthink when he was alone and stressed; now though? Now he just wanted silence and a drawn curtain ad the feeling of falling asleep.

Spot might call him, and that could be a good thing or a bad thing depending on what the verdict was on the whole, dumb drunken decision thing. The more he thought about Spot walking to his door with somebody and seeing his number, and probably laughing because it was really lame, the more he wanted to just pass out.

But before he did, for good measure, he took his phone off silent and plugged it in on the desk table. There was an ingrained panic response when his phone went off and there was no chance he’d be able to sleep through any text or call. 

Their dorm was really warm though, and quiet too, without Jack. At some point he stopped thinking about anything and drifted off.

He wasn’t aware of that but the feeling of floating assured him that he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm desperate for feedback and any semblance of attention regarding my writing so hmu!
> 
> Kudos/comments are always appreciated and I hope you guys enjoyed :)


	6. Halley's Comet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race receives a phone call, zones out in class, and makes plans to go to a Denny's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lived bitch

_ Buzz...buzz...buzz _

God what time was it?

_ Buzz...buzz...buzz _

“Siri, alarm off.”

_ Buzz...buzz...buzz _

Fuck iPhones. With a groan, Race rolled over to face the desk and blindly reached for his phone, hitting several things as one was known to do when blindly doing anything. His eyes hadn’t adjusted and with any luck they wouldn’t have to.

Fumbling with the charger, he pulled the phone closer and squinted at the screen, he should’ve turned the brightness down.

_ Incoming call: 212-314-0526 _

Race stared dumbly at the phone for a few seconds. That was a local call. Spot was local and he’d left a note saying he should call. So, using the deductive reasoning skills he had to pay $5000 to get during that rhetorical analysis class last semester, it was probably Spot. Which sucked but was also good and if that wasn’t a metaphor for all of his social interactions nothing was.

Before he got a chance to think of anything he slid the ‘accept’ button and leaned so that his ear was on the phone, and he could still curl in on himself a bit. “Hello?”

_ “Race?” _

That sounded like Spot’s voice and after this conversation was over he was calling Steve Jobs and suing the fuck out of him because he  _ remembered _ putting his ringer on before he fell asleep. 

But for now he cleared his throat and pulled his blanket over his head and said, “Spot? Yeah, it’s Race.”

_ “Okay cool, I got your note.” _

“Good,” he said, “Um, yeah I wanted to try and get ahold of you and nobody knew your number.”

What sounded suspiciously like a chuckle echoed from the other end of the line and Race bit his lip, shiting so that his head was sticking out of the blanket and he could like, breathe. It didn’t help all that much if he was honest.

_ “Yeah, I try to avoid giving out my number too much, not a fan of the whole digital age thing.” _

God that was cute. “Very Thoreau of you,” he said, which sounded equally cute in his head but kind of sounded pretentious out loud, “Or like, uh-”

Laughter from the other end.

_ “No I love it, I’m actually studying Thoreau in my English class right now, so this is the one time that’s like, a topical thing to say.” _

“Aye nice! So is English a gen ed kind of thing or a major?” he asked. Small talk like this he could do, he was the king of small talk.

_ “Major, I’m taking the literature track,” _ he said,  _ “What about you? Didn’t get to ask last night.” _

Last night was definitely not a small talk conversation but it was their only prior interaction and it had to come up at some point. So, he started counting the ceiling tiles and said, “Astrophysics, and yeah, last night-”

_ “Astrophysics? That’s so cool, like NASA stuff right?” _

There were thirty two. “Sorta yeah, less rockets and more like, expanding universe kind of thing.”

_ “God, you’re like that one guy, Neil deGrasse Tyson? Pre-famous Neil deGrasse Tyson.” _

He knew Neil deGrasse Tyson and Race wanted to fucking cry. Ruining this mood was going to suck, and probably ruin his life and lead to his inevitable faking of his death, of course leading to an FBI investigation and interrogation after he was caught. He’d probably end up in some psycho underground government jail, but it was fine, he was fine.

“God I wish, but um, so I left the note because I didn’t get to talk to you after last night and I wanted to see, I guess, where we are? If that makes sense.”

Really just cut to the chase then, huh, Higgins?

_ “... okay, yeah I was actually wondering too.” _

Everything was terrible and Race was awful at this and simultaneously great at making others uncomfortable, two traits which were in no way mutually exclusive. 

“Okay cool, so, obviously last night happened,” he said, with a record breaking amount of accidental apathy in his voice, “And I don’t know how you feel about me, and everything I guess, but I really would like to get to know you.”

Cue a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line and subsequent panic. 

“I don’t mean that in a weird way! I just like you, and fuck, I’m sorry this is really awkward isn’t it? Me calling you and rambling-”

_ “Rambling is okay.” _

Race fully sat up now and kicked the blanket to the floor, “It’s really not, if it was sensical it would be, but it’s not and I know that and still have like, zero control,” he was up and pacing now, “But I just have to get everything out at once when I talk or else it never gets said and, yeah, I wanted to  _ say _ that I like you and that was really the point of calling.”

God he was actually out of breath from that.

_ “Wow, okay. So, first thank you for being honest and straightforward,”  _ Spot said,  _ “Second,  _ I  _ just want to say that I like you too-” _

Fuck yeah.

_ “-but I don’t want to be that guy that you got drunk with and thought you liked but end up dropping after a few weeks. That’s happened before and it sucks _ .”

Fuck  _ no _ . In terms of getting the title “Dumb Drunken Mistake” Race was the admittedly scrawny heavyweight champ, and Spot was not even in like, the playoffs or whatever the wrestling bracket thing is.

_ “ _ You’re not!” he said, “I was drunk but it’s not like that, if it was I wouldn’t have tried to get ahold of you.”

That sounded mean. Backpedal.

“Shit okay that sounded mean, but I swear that’s not what this is, and we don’t know each other that well but I wouldn’t try and lead you on like that.”

_ “I don’t believe you but I also don’t  _ not  _ believe you.” _

A minute ago he would have made some remark about the lack of grammatical correctness in that sentence coming from an English major, but it was in no way the time for that. 

“Can we maybe, meet somewhere? We don’t have to obviously, but I feel like this isn’t really an over-the-phone type conversation.”

_ “See this is that ‘digital age’ thing I was talking about.” _

Race managed a laugh that sounded so forced it physically hurt him to hear the echo of it on the other line. 

_ “I have a class in an hour, we can meet and get food after if you want?” _

Oh shit, class. He was in college, so was Race. The same college. What time was it?

_ “One thirty.” _

Yeah he didn’t mean to actually ask that.

“I actually have a two thirty class, does four work?” he asked. It probably wouldn’t last that long but he still hadn’t showered and looking for clean clothes was always a bit of gamble so he needed some time. 

_ “Yeah sure, there’s that Denny’s in town if you want to go there?” _

More breakfast food sounded oddly appealing despite not having eaten any of it this morning, probably due to the newfound lack of hangover and addition of Spot. “Sounds perfect.”

_ “Cool, I’ll meet you there.” _

Race nodded and after a few seconds processed that a nod couldn’t be reflected over the phone and said, “Great.”

Sitting down on the bed he looked over at Davey’s bed and bit back a groan. “Oh and I forgot, that medal thing I gave you last night, I sort of, uh, need it back? It’s Jack’s and he’s having an aneurysm over it.”

Spot chuckled.  _ “Yeah okay, see you.” _

“See you.”

That was a high enough note to end on right?

* * *

 

“Your midterm grades will be online by tonight.”

Race groaned, his mixing in with the rest of his classmates, and shut down just as quick by a glare from the professor. 

“In lieu of a lecture today, you will be allowed to work on your research paper which is due three weeks from tomorrow,” he said tiredly. 

Professor Martinez honestly earned exhaustion. The man taught their intermediate astronomy class as well as more advanced physics, and rumor had it he was trying to get a textbook published at the same time. Everyone had a certain level of respect for him and complaints about his classes were generally rare.

But they’d probably be out in an hour, and accounting for the walk back to his dorm, that left about twenty minutes to shower and get to Denny’s.

He’d have to rush but he’d make it in time.

“Any topic ideas yet Higgins?”

A familair voice quickly followed by a knee bumping into his snapped him out of his reverie. “What?”

Henry smiled and pointed at the empty Google Doc on Race’s laptop. “Topic for the paper?”

“Oh, um, still working on it.” He smiled a bit sheepishly and minimized the tab, “You?”

“Yeah actually,” Henry said, “standard candles? Like I want to go into cepheid variable stars and type 1a supernovae, but more about their birth and development then we went into in class.”

Damn that was good, Henry had been in most of his freshman classes for astronomy and physics and was way more into theory than Race was. Him rambling about red shifts and the doppler effect had actually seriously helped his understanding, and he got the feeling the guy would end up becoming a teacher. 

But he really should start thinking about topics. “What do you think about our moon formation theories applied to the moons of Jupiter? Trying to match up some of its moons with our different theories and seeing percentage wise, which is most likely with Jupiter?”

Henry took a pause and Race sighed, deleting what he’d just typed up. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Well,” he said, definitely trying to choose his words carefully and  _ not  _ make Race feel idiotic, “Jupiter’s mass has created a greater gravitational field right?” Race nodded, “And so it’s heavily theorized that its gravity sucked them into orbit following the original solar system formation period.”

At Race’s groan Henry wrapped an arm around him, he was actually pretty nice. “I can help you come up with something if you want.”

After that he started going on about the different theories of the end of the universe, and while they had awfully exciting names like ‘the big rip’, ‘the big freeze’, and ‘the big crunch’ (you really couldn’t make this stuff up) he kept zoning out.

Spot obviously had been hurt in relationships before, which while tragic, meant that he’d  _ been  _ in actual relationships before, unlike a certain nineteen year old astrophysics major. Intimidating as it may be, it left Race in a position where he could very easily screw everything up.

Once Henry made sure Race had a decent idea sketched out, they went with the end of the universe theories, he went back to work and left Race to sort some things out before the class ended.

As far as he saw, it went like this.

Spot Conlon: Cute, likes Race, also thinks Race might have used him for a good time, experienced with relationships, and it sounded rude but, emotionally vulnerable due to said prior relationships. 

Racetrack Higgins: Decently attractive according to several bias sources (Davey and Jack once while he was drunk), likes Spot, is not 100% sure what it feels like to really like someone and it constantly afraid of all his relationships imploding, completely inexperienced, and, has a tendency to blurt out whatever comes to mind.

After he finished physically typing it all of that out onto a seperate Google Doc, he got anxious and sad among a number of other things, and shut his laptop.

What if he  _ didn’t _ like Spot, and  _ was _ just going to drop him after a few weeks? How do you even know you want to be in a relationship with someone if you’ve never actually been in a relationship? Also, how have you never been in a real relationship by nineteen?

God he was so  _ fucked _ . He was going to get there and open his mouth and ruin the whole thing before he even got a chance to think about it.

As he started going down that very self-deprecating rabbit hole, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Not incremented like he was getting a call, probably just a text from Davey, if he’d gotten back to the dorm and found Race’s still uneaten breakfast there was probably a paragraph on how eating keeps the brain functioning or whatever.

Not ‘whatever’ in a mean way, but like right now, whatever.

But then it buzzed again and Henry elbowed him because they sat in the front and Mr. Martinez may be tired but he had ears and a major issue with noise while he was working. 

So he pulled out his phone and put the ringer on mute before checking the text. Again, if this was a cinematic experience that would have been some suspenseful build-up because if it wasn’t good ole  _ 212-314-0526 _ .

Better change that to a contact.

_ Spot Conlon: ok just got out of class and i got the medal, see you in about 45 minutes? _

Checking in with him was a good sign right? 

Either way, everyone was starting to pack up, and he typed out a quick ‘ _ you bet’ _ before shoving his laptop into his bag.

“Midterms by tonight,” Mr. Martinez said as Race and the rest of the class filed out of the door. Somehow, over the course of twenty four hours, he’d managed to get a concern bigger than his midterm grade, and for once he genuinely didn’t give a fuck.

* * *

 

That paragraph on how eating keeps the brain functioning or whatever was verbally read off to him within the first second he walked into the dorm. 

“Race!”

Which didn’t necessarily mean he’d been listening before grabbing a towel and making a break for the bathroom down the hall. He needed to be at Denny’s in forty minutes and anything Jack or Davey had to say could be said while he was changing and panicking within the confines of their room.

He’d actually made a special note of grabbing this green apple shampoo that Jack said made him smell nice that one time because he really needed anything he could get going into this thing.

The whole process of washing his hair and everything else took about four minutes and he just kind of shook his head like a dog on his walk back to the dorm to get the water out.

“Jesus Race where’s the fire?” Jack asked, getting a pretty sarcastic silence in return as Race pulled on a pair of jeans and started digging through his closet for a shirt. “Hot date?”

“Something like-”

“Race!” Davey said, “Seriously, you have to eat before you go out, you haven’t eaten all day and you drank last night so you _ really  _ need to eat something.”

The plaid shirt was too big on him now and he could wear the black hoodie but it had a hole in the sleeve and not one of those aesthetically pleasing rips, it was gaping and made him look like slightly more of a mess than he actually was.

“He’s clearly trying to impress someone.”

“Eating the correct amount for your activity level is pretty impressive but okay, whatever.”

It was too cold to wear just a t-shirt and all of his zip ups were being borrowed by Jack or just super disgusting, and that left him the maroon NYU hoodie and a gray button up. Denny’s didn’t really seem like button up material so he started fumbling with the hoodie.

There was a silence and when he looked up Jack and Davey were staring at him expectantly.

“I’m meeting Spot,” he said quickly with rising volume to drown out Jack’s whoop and Davey’s 

‘Aww’, “And I have to be there in twenty five minutes and it’s like five minutes away and I can’t be late so  _ please _ let me get ready.”

He pulled on the hoodie and almost screamed because in the actual half second between putting the hoodie over his head and actually getting it on, Jack had crossed the five feet between them and was reaching for his hair. 

Instinctively, he pulled away and batted at Jack’s hand. “Fuck, stop it!”

“No, I need to fix it,” Jack said while effectively backing Race into a wall, “It looks cute when it’s natural.” 

He ruffled and managed to smooth it down a bit before Race pulled away. “Then let it be natural!”

“That’s not how it works.”

Davey seemed rather smug over on the other side of the room and Race ran to stand behind him. “Make him leave me alone.”

“Davey’s not the boss of me!”

“Jack leave him alone.”

“Fine.”

Race smile and went over the mirror because he was a bit paranoid about his hair and the hundred possible ways that could be the breaking factor in whatever happened between him and Spot. “It looks fine, right?”

He turned and frowned at Jack and Davey. “Right?”

Jack smirked and Davey smiled, two very similar actions that portrayed two very different emotions, neither of which he was in any way equipped to deal with. 

If his phone was correct he had fifteen minutes till he had to leave and he started pacing before he consciously made the decision that that was what he was going to spend the next fifteen minutes doing.

“So Spot called earlier when we planned this whole thing,” Race said, “And he said he liked me right? But he didn’t want me to be that guy who drunk made out with him and then dropped him a few weeks later.”

He didn’t know why he was saying all of this, he’d planned to keep some of this to himself but that was sort of out the door. The whole rambling thing was becoming an actual problem. “What do I do with that?”

Davey looked a little concerned and Jack was looking at Davey who was looking at Race and all three of them sat in silence for a solid minute. 

“Don’t all speak up at once,” Race said.

Davey cleared his throat and sat down in his desk chair. “No I’m just thinking,  _ is  _ he a guy who you drunk made out with and are gonna drop in a few weeks, because if so-”

“ _ No,  _ he’s not.”

“-if  _ so _ ,” Davey continued, “Then you should be honest with him and say that, and if not be honest with him and say  _ that _ .”

Jack hummed in agreement and pointed at Race. “That’s good advice, do that.”

“How do I  _ know _ if I’m being honest?” Race asked. It was a stupid question but he honestly had no idea the answer.

“You will, even if it sucks, you’ll feel better after you’re honest with him, and that’s how you’ll know,” Davey said. Jack had gotten up about halfway through that sentence and there was a good chance Race missed half of it when Jack kissed Davey and cut him off.

“That was hot.”

Race chucked a shoe at Jack before grabbing his sneakers. “Do you actually believe that?”

“Yeah, he sounded hot while he was saying it-”

Davey smacked Jack on the back of the head before looking at Race with genuine sincerity. “Yes I do. Honest”

He did sound awfully honest. And now that Race was officially, head-out-the-door ready, he felt that weird mix of excitement and fear that he got on rollercoasters right before his stomach dropped. Like, he could definitely throw up it it would all be worth it.

Shit what if he actually threw up?

Davey cleared his throat and Race’s head snapped up. “You should go Racer.”

“Yeah, good luck,” Jack said. The words actually sounded lced with confidence and Race raked a hand through his hair before nodding. 

“Thanks.”

* * *

 

Everyone had the general understanding that Denny’s didn’t really exist on the same plane as everything else.

Race had been to Denny’s drunk, high (he accidentally ate an edible and started crying so Jack dragged him there), bloody (he’d been elbowed in the face by Romeo across the street and his bloody nose ruined what was at the time his favorite shirt), and almost naked ( _ way  _ too long a story) and every time he came, there was absolutely no reaction to his physical state.

Someone could be stabbed to death in a Denny’s and Race was ninety five percent sure their body would just slowly dissolve and the memory of that person would just be gone.

The fact that Spot wanted to meet there was simultaneously unexpected and completely and totally expected. It seemed like a weirdly perfect place to have a discussion about your relationship with a guy you met and almost got to second base with not twenty four hours prior. Hell, there would probably be two or three identical discussions going on at the same time. 

But regardless, Race crossed the street to get to Denny’s at exactly four o’clock, not even having time to worry if it was weird to be exactly on time before he was standing at the door.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to remind himself that within two hours, this would all be figured out. 

One hundred and twenty minutes. That’s nothing. Halley’s comet took seventy five years to complete one full orbit around the sun. 39,420,000,000 minutes. In astronomical terms, he’d be in there with Spot for in indescribably small amount of time, he could have a serious discussion for  an indescribably small amount of time.

That little pep talk took about a minute, and he finally pushed his way through the door, just in time to see Spot crane his neck to look towards the door. And Race. The Race and door system if you will. 

He waved and gave a sort of half smile from a booth near the back, and Race waved weakly back before forcing the signal to his brain to make his legs start moving. 

One hundred and twenty minutes. Starting now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally had the time to write this between school and my new shitty job!!  
> Hope you enjoyed! Leave comments/kudos if you did!


	7. Get Your House in Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You may have seen this coming but, Race and Spot finally sit down and have a sober conversation. Revolutionary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally done with this bad boyyy, hope y'all have enjoyed the ride

“Hey.”

Race sat down across from Spot and struggled to remember that breathing was supposed to be a subconscious act. Maybe it was the air in Denny’s, might be toxic, he could sue. “Hey.”

Somehow Spot managed to look the complete opposite of how Race felt, and let’s be honest, probably looked. There wasn’t a trace of hangover left on him and a waft of vanilla from over the table indicated he probably showered a normal, human being length shower before showing up too. 

There was a physical struggle going on between his eyes and his mind to keep from staring. He never realized brown eyes could glow like that.

“So,” Spot said, “How was your class?”

It was a weak attempt to start conversation but there was no chance in hell Race was going to lead, so he jumped for it. 

“Good, I guess. We have this research paper that’s due like, three weeks from now and we worked on that for pretty much the whole period.”

He really could have stopped there. Spot had sent him an encouraging nod, politely interested, but then came the realization that after he finished there was going to be some weird conversational pit to fill before they  _ really  _ started talking and that idea daunted him. 

So, he just sort of, opened his mouth, and went off.

“I have this friend in that class who’s like, a genius, I wouldn’t even be passing without him-”

“Name?”

“-Henry. So he had this  _ really,  _ really good idea about these things called standard candles? They’re really cool, and sort of confusing, but I had this really shitty idea about moon formation and I told it to him and he got me going on this other one right? It’s about the theories of the end of the universe and evidence we have on each of them-”

“Race-”

“But I still have  _ barely  _ started in on the actual research, on stuff like dark matter and dark energy-”

“Race!”

Spot’s hand landed on his own and there was a beat, like a pulse of electricity, where he couldn’t have formed any words if he  _ tried _ . Looking up he saw a lightness in Spot’s eyes and he was laughing. Maybe at him, probably at him. It didn’t matter.

A blush crept up his neck and he let his gaze linger on Spot’s hand on his before pulling his eyes back up. “Sorry, I ramble sometimes.”

Deja vu.

The waiter walked up just as Spot gained back some remote sense of composure.

“Coffee for either of you?”

“Yeah that would be great,” Race said, Spot nodding.

As he poured their coffee Spot drew his hand back and Race put his own back on his lap. An irrational part of him wanted to reach for it again, but the rational, sane part of him went for the coffee mug instead. It was four in the afternoon but at this point he didn’t really have anything to lose.

“It’s okay.”

Race choked on his coffee at the sound of Spot’s oddly sincere voice. Subsequently falling into a coughing fit, because at this point even his respiratory system was betraying him, he pounded at his chest for a few seconds to try and avoid drowning his lungs with black coffee. What a way to go that would have been.

A few other diners glanced over as Race gained his composure and normally he would have made some sort of joke about dinner and a show but it didn’t really feel like the time.

Spot looked like he’d just shot Race, and was like,  _ really amused _ by his pain.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” he said. It looked suspiciously like he was holding back a laugh.

Race waved him off. “Not your fault, it’s been a long day.”

Spot nodded. “Yeah, and I mean the rambling, the rambling is okay.”

The blush fought its way back to the surface and lord knew it was visible this time. This conversation really needed to pick the hell up before he actually died of some sort of embarrassment induced attack. 

“Okay so,” he said, “Last night…?”

Gravity felt like it tugged at them a bit stronger after the statement was out in the open air, and he watched Spot rake a hand through his hair and sigh. The amusement had left his eyes, now unreadable.

He opened his mouth to say something.

“You guys ready to order?”

The waiter stood in front of them expectedly, unaware of Race’s sudden homicidal thoughts toward him. Or he might have been aware, Race was sort of glaring. 

Spot hid it better. “Pancakes are fine for me.”

“And I’ll-”

“Let me just write that down,” the waiter said as he scribbled on a notepad.

He could just shank him with his butter knife right now. Prison might not be that bad, a refreshing change of pace even. 

The waiter, Kevin, his name tag said, finished writing and looked back up at Race. “And for you.”

“The same.”

Unfazed by the deadpan, Kevin wrote down Race’s order and collected their menus, promising to be back with their food soon. Race decided he hated Kevin. 

A foot nudged his. “Aw, he’s not so bad.”

There was a trace of a smile on Spot’s lips as Race once again did not mean to say that out loud. Brilliantly, he immediately found himself at a loss for words following that, and gravity started tugging at them once more. 

“Yeah so, we were drunk last night,” Spot said carefully, guardedly almost. It almost ripped Race’s heart up to be the one that put him on guard. “And I know you said that you liked me…”

For the first time since they met Spot radiated discomfort. Luckily for him Race was  _ constantly  _ radiating discomfort, and could swoop in like a conversational Spiderman.

“I did!” 

A very over enthusiastic Spiderman. Bring it down.

He took a deep breath and started tapping his foot. “I mean, yeah, I do, like you I mean. And i know we were drunk and stuff but I still think there was some sort of connection?”

Spot’s eye lit up for half a second and a wave of butterflies filled Race’s stomach. Wave? Herd? Whatever, a bunch of them.

“And like, I know you’re afraid that I’m lying or something, or not even lying, just basing all of this off of my stupid drunken memories-”

A pained expression crossed Spot’s face and Race plunged further into his rant before he could get a word out.

“But I have other, sober memories too! Like when we were outside beforehand? And you were really sweet and funny and stuff and I might not have recognized that I liked you in that moment because of the whole Katherine thing-”

_ That _ sure as hell got a response. Spot almost leaned halfway across the goddamn table. “Katherine? What about her?”

Fuck, backpedal. “No, it was nothing-”

“Honesty Race,” Spot said, and he looked like he meant it too. Was desperate for it.

Race was too guilty and too shit of a liar to try and talk his way out of it anyway.

“Well, initially I went to the party because Jack dragged me there on the pretense that I would get to finally talk to Katherine? Because we have a class together and I thought she was cute and stuff-”

Spot crossed his arms, but not threateningly. “So you’re bi then?”

The words didn’t have any emotion to them. They fell flat from his lips and onto the table and Race wondered how much practice it took to devoid your voice of feeling like that. Too much.

But he nodded quickly. “Obviously you saw her and Sarah, so before I went out back and met you I was just kind of, freaking out in the bedroom I guess? About everything?”

A pang of guilt surfaced in Spot’s eyes. This wasn’t meant to be a pity party, he  _ hated  _ turning every conversation into that.

The end of his last sentence hung in the air. He’d meant to keep going but the combination of a tightening knot within his chest and Kevin, appearing once more carrying pancakes, stopped that from happening. 

Food no longer sounded appetizing, even with the incessant voice of Davey ringing in his ears, lecturing him about nutrition, he couldn’t muster anything up. 

The lack of hunger was not reciprocated however, and Spot dove into his plate in a way that was uniquely adorable and impressive. And convenient. With his mouth full he couldn’t cut Race off. 

“But that’s not the point, I just,” Race said, quickly, maybe even angrily. He wanted this out. “I’m usually on the other end of this conversation I guess. I don’t know what to say, I’m sorry.”

Suddenly he felt like crying. Could have been the stress and/or the lack of food and sleep, but Race had so actually sit in a goddamn Denny’s at four thirty in the afternoon and try not to cry across from a guy who was probably realizing this whole thing wasn’t worth it after all. 

Insecurity always came in a wave like this. They crashed and swept everything away until felt nothing at all,  _ was  _ nothing at all. 

Spot let out a long exhale. “Don’t be. I wasn’t really taking into account your side of all this.”

Silence lay thickly between them for a few long seconds. Race was thinking about how he could probably just change his name and entire personality when he realized Spot was actually  _ laughing _ . 

It was so unexpected that he managed to drag himself out of his pit of despair long enough to look up and confirm that yeah, he was actually  _ holding back  _ laughter. There was literally no emotion in the English language that could describe what he was feeling in that moment. Shock and/or horror wouldn’t even do the trick.

Also, Spot laughing was so cute it could make an angel hang itself, but that's besides the point. 

Said source of laughter looked up and managed to choke out a ‘sorry’ before putting his head down in a sordid attempt to gain back his sanity. There was something in the air at Denny’s man, seriously, it made you insane. 

“I’m so confused.”

Eloquent Race. Beautifully put. Giving Shakespeare a run for his money right there.

“We’re both just-” Spot choked out, “-such messes. We’re having this conversation in a  _ Denny’s _ .”

Race was actually giggling before he could get a handle on himself too. Maybe it was the sudden drop in intensity and the relief that came with it, or just the sudden awareness that they  _ were  _ having this conversation in a fucking Denny’s. 

People were definitely staring at the two of them losing their shit, but neither of them could muster up the energy to even care.

Spot was the first to fully recover from the laughing fit, and he just looked up at Race and grinned. Something like the moon glittered in his eyes. 

“Fucking Christ.”

“I know right,” Race said, “This whole thing is just…”

“Bizarre?”

Race snapped and pointed at Spot. “Exactly, bizarre. Totally, insanely bizarre.”

The silence that fell didn’t feel quite as heavy this time, it felt like their laughing fit had dispelled whatever had been holding them down. Hell, Race even managed a bite of two of his pancakes now that the stone that had been sitting in the pit of his stomach felt smaller.

* * *

 

_ “How do I know if I’m being honest?” _

_ “You will, even if it sucks, you’ll feel better after you’re honest with him, and that’s how you’ll know.” _

* * *

 

Davey Jacobs. The man could make a good point now and again, Race had to give him that. 

A minute passed. It could have been an hour in the real world, but they were in Denny’s, and time didn’t fow the same way there as it did everywhere else. 

Spot was the one who spoke first, it seemed like he did that an awful lot.

“So,” he said, “seems like we both feel the same sort of way about all this.”

Race nodded. 

“I mean, if we both have the same fear about what’s gonna happen, maybe they cancel out? We cancel it out.”

It sounded like some twisted, emotional algebra problem, but Race understood what he was driving at. If you’re both afraid of becoming a mistake, maybe there isn’t anything left to mess up anymore. Vulnerability had rendered them useless to dole out hurt, toward themselves or the other.

Like declawed cats, the two of them.

Kevin, dearest Kevin, came to collect Spot’s plate then, promising to get Race a box for what would be his second plate of partially eaten pancakes that day, giving Race a chance to mull over what Spot had said. 

Oddly enough, they both were weirdly afraid of being hurt and hurting each other at the same time. Expressing that in completely different ways, Spot rationally, and Race utterly irrationally, it left them here, at this Denny’s. Neither of them really knew what to do and Race couldn’t really speak for Spot, but the situation felt a little lighter despite the aforementioned ‘not knowing what to do’.

Race took a long gulp to finish off the rest of his coffee and slammed the mug down like he’d taken a shot. “We really didn’t figure all that much out.”

“No we did not,” Spot said.

The air didn’t pull them down or buzz with electricity after that revelation. It was simply the thing that flowed through their lungs and raced through their blood without reason. Sometimes things just existed as they were meant to.

Oh what the hell, shoot your shot Higgins.

“Do you wanna go out with me tomorrow?”

Spot grinned and a firework went off in Race’s chest. “Yes.”

What a beautiful word. It could set a soul aflame with a single syllable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've finally reached the end my friends, strange the passage of time isn't it?
> 
> Leave me some feedback in the comments so I can maintain some sanity or just hit that kudos button :)
> 
> Really hope you guys liked how it turned out!!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're enjoying so far!!
> 
> Leave kudos/comments if you are!!


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